Flashbacks from Vengeance
by elizaye
Summary: These are the flashbacks from the story, Vengeance, placed in chronological order so that you can see the progression of the relationship between Draco and Hermione. Rated M for sex/language.
1. Yule Ball

**Author's Note:** Hey guys! So I was originally not going to post these, but I figured I might as well, since I already have them on my computer in order. _And_ I even had titles (not very good titles, just a warning) for them to serve as reminders for myself of what the flashbacks were. So, here they are! I separated them into chapters, because if they were just one chapter, it'd be pretty insanely long.

This first flashback is from Ch. 2, and it takes place (obviously) in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

And if you haven't already read _Vengeance_, you might want to read that instead of this. This is more of a collection. _Vengeance_ is the actual story. Although I guess each of these flashbacks could stand on its own, sort of.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I do not own anything from _Harry Potter_.

**Yule Ball**

"Ron—you spoiled _everything!_" Hermione screamed up the stairs, tears leaking out of her eyes.

Ron and Harry rushed up the stairs and out of sight. Hermione watched them go and then sat on the steps, wiping at her tears. Her feet ached from dancing in her heels, and she removed them one at a time, still crying pathetically.

"Granger."

She looked up and saw the face she least wanted to see—no, the second least. Ron was the person she least wanted to see at the moment.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she sniffed, trying to regain her composure.

"What happened to you? Got dumped by Krum? Or was it Potty and the Weasel?" Malfoy taunted.

"Go away," Hermione snarled, getting to her feet.

"What, no witty remarks today? No verbal sparring?"

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not really in the mood for that right now." At least her tears had dried.

Hermione started walking up the stairs, but his hand caught hers, and she turned around to glare at him. Their faces were about level, but Malfoy was standing a step below her.

He smirked. "Aw, Mudblood's been dumped."

"Don't call me that," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Don't call you what, Granger? Mudblood?"

He looked at her innocently, and she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed onto him, shoved him up against the side wall and started pounding his chest and shoulders.

"Ow—ow! What the—bloody hell—are you doing?" Malfoy shouted.

She kept pounding away at him until he restrained her hands. She was out of breath, and he was panting lightly too. She tried to free her hands, but his grip felt like a vice on each arm.

"Let go of me!"

"Where'd all that strength go? You practically threw me up against a wall right there," said Malfoy, twisting his head around slightly. "Now my neck hurts."

"Good," said Hermione, seething.

"You dirty little Mudblood, I'm going to make you pay."

"Oh yeah? How?"

His lips crashed down on hers, and she gasped at the sudden contact, trying to back away. Then his arms wrapped around her, and he spun them around, trapping her against the wall. The swift motion made Hermione dizzy, and she kicked out, trying to keep her balance. He supported her weight, lips never leaving hers.

She shoved at his chest, but he caught her arms again and pinned them to her sides as he trapped her back into his embrace. She tried to kick him, but realized too late that while she was trying not to fall, he had stepped between her legs. Feeling more desperate now, she wriggled her right arm out from its position and jabbed him in the ribs.

His lips finally left hers as he grunted in pain, but before she could take more than a few much-needed gasps of air, his mouth had covered hers again, and this time he'd caught her with her mouth open. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she tried to back up, hitting her head against the wall.

Everything blurred, and she found herself responding, pressing her tongue against his, and finding the taste and feel of his tongue intoxicating. His arms slowly loosened around her, and his hands began to wander up and down her sides. She fisted both of her hands in his hair and held on tight.

_No… no, no, no. What are you doing? _a voice said in her head.

_What, a girl can't relax every once in a while? I'm just going to relax and enjoy myself_, Hermione thought back.

_No! Enjoy myself? This is Draco Malfoy! His father is a Death Eater!_

_Oh, bugger off, she shot back at her conscience._

In the meantime, Malfoy had swept her up into his arms, still kissing her feverishly. When Hermione realized that her feet had left the ground—and she didn't realize it until they had already reached the top of the stairs—she pulled her lips away from his.

"Where—where are we going?" she asked worriedly.

"Does it matter?" Malfoy replied, his eyes filled with lust.

Hermione realized belatedly that her shoes were still on the steps and was about to ask Malfoy to put her down so she could get them when he touched his lips to hers again. She promptly forgot what it was that she wanted, too caught up in the maelstrom of new sensations coursing through her.

Then she was sitting on the edge of a desk, her legs spread apart, her dress hitched up around her waist. He was standing between her legs, still not letting up on her mouth, but she couldn't get tired of that taste—she just wanted more of these feelings, more of his touch, more of him.

His hands caressed her breasts through the fabric of her dress, making her moan gently. He kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone, and she whimpered. When his hands reached around her to start lifting her dress off, she gasped and caught them.

"No, please don't," she whispered.

He didn't seem put off in the least, his teeth nipping at her neck as he dragged his mouth back up toward hers. One of his hands slid up and stopped at the base of her neck, gripping the back of her neck firmly so she couldn't move her head away from his—not that she wanted to.

Then something poked her in that area, and she gasped, her attention drawn to his other hand. He had pushed her panties to the side, and now he was stroking up and down her folds. His lips had moved on to her earlobe, and she gasped as his finger touched a spot that seemed more sensitive than the rest of her.

"Oh, Merlin—do that again," she moaned.

"What, this?" he murmured, lightly grazing the spot again.

"Ohhh yes."

He rubbed across that spot a few times, and she couldn't hold back her moans. Then he pressed a finger up inside her, and she moaned in pleasure—she had never felt anything so intense, yet for some reason she felt that there could be so much more. She bucked her hips against him instinctively and felt the pleasure surge.

She looked at his face and noticed that there was a small smile playing around his lips.

"Malfoy, do something," she said, thinking that there had to be contribution from his side for that wonderfully delicious feeling to come back—he'd stopped touching that sensitive spot, and she was aching for him to touch it again.

"Granger, what do you want me to do? I don't know what to do now," he said, feigning ignorance.

"You bastard—"

"I wouldn't be insulting me if I were you."

His long finger thrust a bit farther inside her, and she cried out in pleasure, but still that aching need was there.

"Malfoy…" she hissed.

"Yes?" That damned finger wriggled a tiny bit, making her spasm against him.

"Malfoy, please."

She felt as if she was so close to something, but to what she had no idea.

He whispered in her ear, "I want to hear you beg, Granger. Beg me to fuck you."

Hermione bit her lip—hadn't she already said please?

"Please, Malfoy," she breathed, and his finger moved just a bit again. "Please, stop torturing me."

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

Then the finger was gone, and Hermione's breaths quickened. She tightened her arms around his neck so he couldn't back away and heard the words come out of her mouth in a breathy whisper.

"Malfoy, fuck me."

He smirked. "There you go."

Suddenly he was pushing away from her and walking across the room toward the door. Hermione was shocked for a moment, and then she ran past him, blocking the door. He cocked his head to the side, amused.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" she demanded. She was still aching for release, and her legs trembled a little. She was acutely aware of the wetness between her legs.

"I said I'd make you pay, and now you're paying," said Malfoy simply. "Get out of my way."

Hermione glared at him. "You—you—you conniving, slimy git!"

He took another step in her direction, and she jumped on him, making him stagger backwards. Allowing her desperate need to dictate her actions, she latched onto his mouth and kissed him furiously, arms wrapped around his neck and legs twisted around his waist. She felt something hard pressing against her lower region and suddenly felt a little shy.

When she backed off his mouth to kiss his chin and jaw, he groaned.

"God, Granger. What are you doing to me?" His voice was raspy and low.

She realized that she couldn't find words to explain her actions, so she just kept kissing him. He dumped her on a desk, pushed her down so that they were horizontal, and pulled her panties off. She gasped and his mouth covered hers again. Her hands moved of their own accord to remove his belt, and she couldn't believe what she was doing.

Going for it with Draco Malfoy, of all people? She had no idea what had gotten into her, but she didn't care anymore. She'd had enough of being treated as a last resort by Ron, and Malfoy… he made her feel desired, and Merlin help her, she wanted him too.

She kept fumbling with the buckle, and his kiss became more urgent. He pushed her hands out of the way and unbuckled the belt himself. Her free hands ran up his body, tugging his shirt off. She stopped kissing him to look at his perfect, smooth skin and the muscles that rippled beneath it. She couldn't stop herself from touching him.

Then she felt something nudging her nether lips, and she gasped—he'd gotten his pants and boxers off.

Her eyes darted up to his face, and she found his eyes fixed hungrily on hers. What was he waiting for? She lifted her head and tugged his lower lip between her teeth. A feral growl escaped him, and he entered her in one swift stroke. Her cry of pain was muffled by his mouth, but his lower body remained perfectly still.

The pain quickly subsided, and she felt extremely…full. Complete. He was still looking at her eyes, as if waiting for permission. She nodded her head, and then he was moving.

In, out. In, out. In, out.

Hermione was gasping and moaning. She gripped his shoulders and begged for him to move faster, and he complied, going farther in with each stroke. He must not have entered her fully the first time. She started thrusting her hips up to meet his and was almost embarrassed by the loud sounds coming out of her throat.

Then she was soaring, sparks flying before her eyes. She clung to his shoulders tightly, afraid that she'd fall if she let go. He thrust in her a few more times before coming inside her, and then he collapsed over her. She stroked his broad shoulders gently, and his breathing slowly evened out.

It was then that her brain decided to function again.

She'd just had sex. She'd just had sex with _Draco Malfoy_.

Suddenly she was terrified. She started to push at Malfoy's chest, but he just crushed her with his weight and kissed her lips.

"Relax, Granger," he mumbled between kisses.

She shoved at him again, panting.

"Get—get off me."

Malfoy grinned wickedly. "That's not what you said earlier, Granger."

Hermione's face blanched as she remembered how she'd asked him to fuck her. He took advantage of the distraction and kissed her a few more times. She stopped fighting. Another few kisses wouldn't make what she did any worse, at this point.

Finally, he slid out of her and backed away. "Wow. I didn't even get to see you naked," he said.

Hermione sat up on the desk and smoothed out her dress. He was putting his clothes back on. She stood up. "Where…" she began to ask, but it was too embarrassing. She looked around for her panties.

"Looking for these?" said Malfoy, picking her underwear up off the floor.

"Give them back."

"No. You're mine now, and I'm going to keep this as a souvenir."

"Yours? Who said I was yours?"

"I did," said Malfoy, grinning. "You're mine, Granger."

"Yeah, right."

Her hair was disheveled, probably all over the place, and she couldn't think straight. She took a few steps toward him and found that it hurt a little to walk. Then Malfoy smiled at her, and she realized that it was sincere, not like his usual taunting smirks. She couldn't take her eyes off his face.

"Well, if you insist that you're not mine right now, I'll just have to make you mine," he said. "And I'll start by taking this with me." He held up her underwear.

"Give it back."

"No. If you don't let me touch you again, I want something to prove to myself this wasn't just a dream."

Hermione frowned. "You have dreams like this?"

Malfoy hesitated. "No, of course not."

"Have you fantasized about me?"

"No," said Malfoy. "Why would I fantasize about you? You're a Mudblood."

"Yeah, a Mudblood that you just had sex with and whose panties you aren't giving back."

She reached for them, but he held them out of reach.

"All right then, yes. I have fantasized about this. Now what?"

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"That's what I thought," said Malfoy, grinning. He kissed her lips again. "You'll see that you're mine eventually, Hermione. You'll see."

She shuddered when he said her first name, and suddenly she wanted to hear it come out of those velvety lips again. He started for the door, but her words made him pause.

"Say my name again."

Malfoy smirked. "Bye, Hermione." Without looking back at her, he left the room.

"Bye… Draco."


	2. Library

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 1, and it takes place late in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

**Library**

A chair was pulled out across the table from her, and Hermione looked up to see Malfoy taking a seat.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Not that it's any of your business, Granger, but usually when I come to the library, it's to get some work done."

She glared at him. "I meant, why are you sitting with me?"

"If you hadn't noticed, most of the library is full. If I had another option, I wouldn't be here."

"You could always go back to your common room."

"As if you could drive me away," said Malfoy, smirking.

Hermione sighed and started gathering her books. She was already exhausted from long hours of studying, and the last thing she needed was to get in another argument with the slimy git. She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him since the Yule Ball several weeks ago, but he hadn't tried to get her alone since.

It was as if that night had never happened—the only thing that convinced her that something had happened between them was the absence of the pair of underwear that he had taken away with him. But at this point, she was willing to believe that she'd simply dreamed up the whole scene and coincidentally lost that same pair of underwear.

"Are you really going to run away, like a coward? So much for Gryffindor bravery," Malfoy taunted.

She glared at him. "I'm done working for now, so I'm going to turn in. I'm tired."

"Studying too hard lately, hmm?"

"What do you care?"

Malfoy leaned across the table, snatched her Potions textbook, and started leafing through it.

Hermione held out her hand. "Give that back, Malfoy."

He raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't?"

"I'll hex you, that's what. Give it."

"Fine."

Malfoy passed the textbook to her, and after putting it in her bag with her other books, Hermione marched swiftly out of the library.

When she returned to Gryffindor Tower, she took her potions book out and continued scratching away on a piece of parchment. Then Ron walked by the table and accidentally knocked her book over—a corner of the book had been protruding over the edge of the desk. A folded scrap of parchment fell out.

"Sorry," said Ron, picking up the book and handing it to her. His eyes fell to the piece of parchment on the ground, and Hermione picked it up. "What is that?" he asked.

"It's none of your business, and besides, I thought you weren't talking to me," said Hermione.

Ron muttered darkly as he walked away, and Hermione managed to catch something about bushy hair, touchiness, and Victor Krum. She shook her head and ignored him, looking instead at the small piece of parchment in her hand.

She slowly unfolded it and saw, in elegant script, "Meet me at half past one, where you last saw me today."

Hermione blinked a few times and looked around. No one had noticed the note she was reading. She carefully tucked it in her pocket and kept writing, but her mind was partially occupied by a debate.

Should she meet him? Her body quivered in anticipation; she'd been reliving that night in her dreams, and she always woke up with the same wetness between her legs and the same ache low in her belly. But she couldn't meet him! He was Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, and well on his way to becoming one himself!

She closed her eyes for a minute, trying to clear her head. She needed to finish this assignment for Potions. It wasn't due until Friday of next week, but she still wanted to get it done so that she could finish rereading the Arithmancy textbook.

Around eleven thirty, people slowly started trickling out of the common room. Hermione was halfway done with her Potions essay, and still she was struggling to make up her mind.

Finally, at half past midnight, Parvati and Lavender got up from their seats on the couches.

"Don't stay up too late, Hermione," said Parvati.

"I won't."

The best friends went up the staircase to the girls' dormitories, leaving Hermione alone in the common room. She turned her attention back to her dilemma. Should she go or not?

About twenty minutes later, she groaned and slammed her book in frustration. She would go down and meet him, but only to tell him that she wanted nothing more to do with him. She would tell him off for bothering her and make it very clear that she would hex him into oblivion if he ever tried anything with her again.

With this in mind, she worked feverishly until it was half past one—she found that she rather enjoyed idea of making him wait for her. She put down her quill, rolled up the piece of parchment that she'd been writing on, and closed the book. Then she stood and exited through the portrait hole.

The walk to the library felt shorter than it had ever been before, and soon she was striding over to the table where she had sat earlier that day.

It was empty.

What time was it? She was supposed to be the late one. How late was she? Had he left already? Then she sighed. How did she not catch that before? He probably hadn't even planned on showing up; he just wanted to mess with her head by making her think that he wanted to see her again. She glared at the spot where he'd been sitting before.

Then arms circled her from behind, and she jumped in surprise. His breath was hot against her ear.

"You're late, Hermione."

She shuddered the same way as she had when she'd first heard him utter her name.

"Get your hands off me," she said evenly.

"I would… but is that really what you want?"

Before Hermione could respond, he had turned her around, captured her lips with his, and pulled her up against him tightly. She wanted to scream, wanted to bite his tongue when it slipped into her mouth and began to explore, wanted to reach into her robes and pull out her wand to hex him as she'd promised herself she would.

But she didn't.

Instead, she moaned into his mouth and slid her hands underneath his shirt to run across his smooth skin, stretched over well-developed muscles. One of his hands was fisted in her hair, and he deepened the kiss. She gently ground her hips against his once, and he groaned, lifting his mouth away from hers. She kissed along his jaw and then down the side of his neck, simultaneously undoing the buttons on his shirt. She left open-mouthed kisses on his now exposed collarbone and felt such a strange sense of satisfaction as he moaned her name softly.

She, Hermione Granger, had power over Draco Malfoy.

But she didn't enjoy this power for long; he ripped her shirt off and shrugged off his own, and when his arms circled back around her, the feeling of his skin against hers put her on fire. She felt surrounded by him, and it felt so warm, so safe.

She lifted her head and tentatively licked his lips. With a low growl he kissed her, hard, and she pressed up against him. She felt his arousal against her thigh and a thrill coursed through her. His hands were caressing her back, and she sucked on his lower lip.

Then Malfoy pulled away from her, and her eyes snapped open. She blinked, waiting impatiently for him to spit out whatever he had to say so that she could taste those lips again.

"You're mine," he breathed. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," Hermione said without hesitation.

"Good."


	3. The Third Task

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 11 and takes place (again, obviously) in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

**The Third Task**

Harry had gone into the maze ages ago, and Hermione was really beginning to worry; the entire crowd was restless, no matter whom they supported.

She saw red sparks and prayed that they weren't from Harry. Professor McGonagall disappeared into the maze toward the sparks.

Soon, they learned that Fleur Delacour had dropped out.

Hermione's eyes swept over the stands and rested on a particular blond boy. She blinked in surprise when she realized that he was staring at her too. She was even more surprised when he didn't look away upon being caught, continuing to stare right at her.

She looked away, turning her attention to the maze.

A moment later, she tapped Ron's shoulder. "I have to go to the restroom. I'll be right back."

"All right," said Ron, still watching the maze anxiously.

Hermione slipped out of the stands and went around to the temporary bathrooms that had been magicked into existence behind the Quidditch pitch, where the maze had been set up. The line was too long, so she moved swiftly toward the castle.

She didn't really have to go to the restroom, but she did want to be alone for a while. She didn't know how long the third task would take, but she didn't want to stay where Draco—no, Malfoy!—could see her.

She went into the castle and located the nearest girls' bathroom.

After splashing water on her face, she looked up at the mirror to see the reflection of him standing behind her.

Her body reacted before her mind, and she screamed.

"I'm not that repulsive, am I?"

"You startled me," said Hermione, starting to turn around.

His arms ensnared her from behind, and he rested his head in the crook of her neck, looking at the pair of them in the mirror.

"We make a beautiful couple. My face more than makes up for your bushy hair."

"Let go of me, Malfoy."

"Why do you have to make me fight for you every time? You know you're enjoying these little escapades as much as I am."

"Am not," said Hermione.

Still, she gasped as he tugged the collar of her shirt to the side and dragged his mouth from her shoulder up her neck to her jaw.

"Oh, really?" Malfoy breathed into her ear, making her shudder.

"You're vile."

His mouth closed around her earlobe, and she almost melted.

"How many times has it been now? You shouldn't make me win you over every time, Hermione. It's not fair, you know."

She only shuddered. His hands were now traveling up her stomach under her shirt. She closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the feeling of his smooth, large hands against her skin. He stopped sliding them up just below her breasts.

"I should go back soon—the Third Task…"

"I'll make it quick, then," said Malfoy.

He spun her around in his arms, and his lips descended on hers in a kiss that curled her toes and made her mind blissfully blank.

The next thing she knew, she was pressed up against a wall, and he was positioning himself at her entrance. When had he removed their underwear?

Hermione cried out as he began pounding into her. She sank her fingernails into his shoulders through the shirt. Her whole world was shaking. She was moaning loudly over his soft grunts, unable to stop the sounds ripping out of her throat.

Suddenly, he stopped, and Hermione huffed in disapproval. He started to say something, but she lifted her leg up, hooked it around his firm behind, and pulled him back inside her.

"Fuck!" Malfoy groaned.

Losing control over his movements, he began slamming into her again, both of them panting and moaning louder and louder until finally reaching their release.

Malfoy pulled out of her, but they stayed up against the wall for a long minute, catching their breath.

"Four," Hermione said softly, when her breaths had evened out. "It's been four times."

"I know."

His lips pressed against hers gently, but she turned her head.

"Malfoy, I really should go."

"Call me Draco."

Hermione shook her head. She hadn't ever called him Draco to his face, but she'd almost referred to him by his given name a few nights ago during a conversation with Harry in the common room. Close call…

"You didn't seem to have a problem screaming it a minute ago."

Hermione's cheeks reddened. She didn't even know that her mouth had been forming words.

He laughed lightly. "Are you embarrassed?"

Hermione tried to glare up at him, but his smiling face made it almost impossible for her to be angry.

"Oh, let go of me," she said.

Draco grinned. "All right, fine."

He backed away from her and pulled up his boxers and pants. She picked her underwear up off the floor.

"How am I supposed to wear these now?"

"Are you a witch or not?" said Draco. He raised his wand. "Scourgify."

Hermione pulled them back on and readjusted her skirt, cheeks red again. "I just—"

"I'm just teasing you. But we do need to talk. Don't tell me that you're not enjoying this."

Hermione sighed and put her arms around his neck. His hands circled gently around her waist, staying respectfully above her bottom.

"It's so wrong," said Hermione.

"Yeah, but you know you like it."

Hermione smiled. "Guilty as charged."

She lifted herself up on tiptoe and planted a light kiss on his lips.

"Next time, if you play hard to get, I'm going to punish you," Draco threatened with a small smile.

Hermione just shook her head. "I'll worry about that next time. Let's go."

"You go ahead. I'll follow later—less suspicious that way."

She nodded and kissed him again before hurrying out of the bathroom.

The entrance hall was still empty when she emerged, and she exited the castle, moving swiftly across the grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. Judging from the relative quiet, there hadn't been a winner yet. Just as she reached the stands, people started shouting. She quickly located Ron.

"Bloody hell, what took you so long?"

"What's going on?" she asked him, avoiding the question.

"They just found Krum—he was under the Imperius Curse!"

Hermione's eyes widened. "How do you know?"

"Oh, come off it. Mad-Eye had us practicing with the Imperius Curse long enough. I recognize that look in his eyes."

Ron passed Hermione his binoculars, and she gasped when she saw a glazed look in the Bulgarian Quidditch star.

"I hope Harry's okay," she said as she handed the binoculars back to Ron.

She glanced up at the place where Draco had been before and saw him pushing some younger spectators out of the way, laughing as he made a joke with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott.

God, she wasn't really falling for that boy, was she?

Even as she asked herself the question, she knew the answer.


	4. Insomnia

**Author's Note:** This flashback is in Ch. 12 and takes place maybe several hours after the third task.

**Insomnia**

Hermione flipped over again and groaned.

She'd been tossing and turning for at least an hour. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.

Lord Voldemort had come back to life. She believed Harry entirely—there was no reason not to. If he said that the Dark Lord had risen and murdered Cedric Diggory, then it had to be the truth. It was so hard to believe that one of her classmates had really died. It made Voldemort seem so much more substantial to her, more real. It was as if she'd been in denial that he'd existed, as though she hadn't really understood what it would mean for him to return. At least, not until one of her classmates lay on the ground, eyes still wide open.

She had caught a glimpse of him before they ushered all the students back, and now she couldn't rid her mind of that image. It filled her head every time she closed her mind, and she was terrified. What would happen to her if she saw Harry or Ron like that? She'd never felt more worried for Harry's life.

She rolled over again and clutched the covers tightly to her.

How could any of the others sleep? She could hear Lavender's light snoring on her right and Fay Dunbar's even breathing on her left.

Frustrated, she sat up and looked at the drapes hanging around her four-poster bed. She pushed them aside and put her legs down over the side, sliding her feet into her slippers. The other drapes were unmoving, and the room was quiet.

She walked out of her bedroom and into the empty Gryffindor Common Room. She stared at the dying embers in the fireplace.

She was scared for the future. If Voldemort was alive, then all Muggle-borns were especially in danger. That meant her. As much as she'd reassured Ron that she wasn't afraid, she was terrified. Harry had been in too much shock to think about Hermione's blood status.

Suddenly she felt like she had to escape. Even though she was already alone, she felt like she couldn't get away from images of Harry and Ron and all the others watching from the couches. She exited the common room through the portrait hole, earning several complaints from a disgruntled Fat Lady.

She wandered the dark hallways aimlessly and soundlessly, not bothering to light her wand. It didn't matter that Filch prowled the hallways at night and would love to give her a detention. After seeing the face of a dead classmate, detentions seemed so unimportant, so insignificant.

Then she heard footsteps and stopped walking, turning to back up silently against the wall. Maybe whoever it was would just pass right by.

No such luck.

"Lumos."

A bit of light glowed from the tip of a wand.

"Malfoy?"

He scowled. "Forgot my name already, Hermione?" he asked pointedly.

She looked down, avoiding his eyes. "Malfoy, I really don't think we should keep this up," she mumbled.

"Why would you want to end something like this?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"And what exactly do you think this is?"

"What do you think it is? It's magic."

Hermione shook her head. "Magic? Merlin, either I heard you wrong, or you've gone mad. It—the first time never should have happened. You shouldn't have—"

"Me? If I remember correctly, you asked for it. You jumped me."

She glared at him. "I did not!" she hissed. "You worked me up into it."

"You could have walked away. I completely intended to leave you in that room," he said. "But you made me stay. And now that I've had you, you're not going anywhere. You're mine. You got that?"

"I'm not yours," she spat.

"Hermione, Hermione. We just had a breakthrough earlier today. Didn't I tell you I'd punish you if you played hard to get again?"

"I'm not," said Hermione. "Voldemort—he's back. I just don't—"

"How does his return affect anything between us?"

She stared at him. "How does it not affect us?"

"We're kids. I doubt he cares about two kids fucking around."

"Your father—he's a Death Eater, wasn't he? I'm on Harry's side. We can't—"

Malfoy let his wand clatter to the ground, still lit, and put his hand over her mouth. He was right in front of her now.

"Why are you out so late, my good Gryffindor girl?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I couldn't sleep. Look, Malfoy, I—"

He shook his head. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

She sighed.

"Let me guess," he said when she didn't reply. "You're scared because you're a Muggle-born."

She shook her head but didn't say anything.

"Hermione, look at me."

She kept her eyes on the ground, but he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. Her eyes found his, and the image before her took her breath away.

She hadn't looked so closely at his face before. Even the previous times when they'd been intimate, she hadn't paid so much attention to his eyes. They were dark grey at the moment, swirling deep pools of grey. She found that she couldn't look away. She was sinking in, unable to pull herself out. Then she realized, fearfully, that she didn't want to pull herself out anymore.

"Merlin, save me," she breathed.

"Trust me. Nothing can happen to you. We're at Hogwarts, after all. Don't be afraid."

She blinked. "Why are you trying to comfort me?"

"Because you won't be as good a shag if you're moping," he said, smirking.

She glared at him.

"What, you don't honestly think I care about you, do you?"

"Of course I don't. I'm trying to find out why you're doing this," said Hermione. "After hating me for almost four whole years, it's impossible that you'd actually care about me."

Draco's smirk faded. "What if I said I do? Would that scare you?"

"I wouldn't believe you."

He shrugged. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't believe me either."

They stood in silence for a while. She started to move to the side to get away from him, but he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her.

"Malfoy, let me go."

"No."

She sighed. "Please? I just want to go back to Gryffindor Tower and get to bed."

"Why? You won't be able to sleep anyway. Why waste your time tossing and turning when you could be here, with me?"

He ground his hips gently against her, and she felt a familiar heat building between her legs.

She pulled out her wand and held it up between them, slanted toward him. "Malfoy, don't make me hex you."

"You know, it hurts my feelings when my girl refuses to call me by my name."

"I'm not yours," said Hermione. "Now get away from me, before I hex you."

He grinned. "You wouldn't. I know you, Hermione. If you were going to hex me, you would've done it already. You don't really want me to leave. I know what you want."

Before she could retort, his lips pressed against hers, and her eyes fluttered shut. She had had a hex in mind before, but what was it? She welcomed the mind-numbing sensation that filled her up and slipped her tongue out to taste his lips. She was aware of his hand resting gently on hers. It slipped up and pulled her wand out of her hand, letting it fall to the ground.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes to see his hovering only a few centimeters away. They were a smoky grey, clouded with lust.

"Hermione," he whispered, "you can try to deny it all you want, but your body knows that it's mine."

She shuddered as his hands ran down her sides, following her light curves.

"Things… they've changed since earlier today," she said quietly. "We can't do this anymore, Malfoy."

He nibbled at her neck, and she trembled as sinful desire blossomed in her chest. She wanted him again. She felt wetness growing between her legs and hated herself for responding that way. This was the son of a Death Eater—Harry had seen Malfoy Sr. at the graveyard that night.

"Please stop," she pleaded in a tortured whisper.

He started unbuttoning her pajama shirt, his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone.

"Stop me, then," he retorted between kisses.

His breath was hot on her skin, and she couldn't breathe normally. She bit her lip and placed her hands on his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away. But she didn't want the feeling to end. She didn't want to be alone. Maybe she could just… just one last time…

She let her hands run across his broad shoulders, and then brought them up to stroke his silky hair. He groaned in approval, his lips moving farther downward. She tugged his head up and kissed him fiercely, letting out all of her frustration and fear in that kiss. She ravaged his mouth, and he seemed taken aback by her aggression, backing up slightly. She stepped forward, her hands fisted in his hair, making sure that their lips stayed connected.

"Her—mm—" he tried to speak around her tongue.

She backed up for a second.

"Malfoy, stop talking before I change my mind. Now kiss me," she said seductively.

If he was surprised by her sudden change of heart, he didn't show it, attacking her lips with his. She stripped him of his shirt, craving the feel of his smooth skin under her fingertips. She broke their kiss and slid her lips along his jaw, down his neck, to his chest.

"Hermione, we should get in a room or something. Filch might—"

Hermione bit down on his left pectoral and sucked, and he gasped, cutting himself off midsentence. She licked the bite mark and backed up to look at him. He stooped and picked up his shirt and their wands before shoving her toward a room a bit farther down the hall.

She held the door open for him and then closed and locked it. She turned around to see him not even an inch away from her, and she backed into the door, surprised. His hands finished unbuttoning her pajama top and pushed it off her shoulders while his lips and tongue kept her amply distracted.

This was blissful. How could it be wrong to want a heavenly feeling like this?

She sucked on his lower lip and loved the desperate groan that ripped out of his throat. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

If she was his, then he was hers.

Then he pressed up against her, letting her feel his obvious arousal, and she was suddenly in a hurry to get both of them out of their clothes. She removed her bra and took off her panties and pajama bottoms together. He kicked off his shoes and socks and then took off his pants.

She pulled him close to kiss him as he removed his boxers and tossed them to the side. His hands caressed her sides, and she pressed up against him, reveling in the heat that coursed through her when her bare chest came into contact with his. Her wetness was already dripping down her legs, and she hitched one of them around his waist to pull him closer to her.

He gasped when her wet center pressed against the tip of his cock, and she grinned, swirling her hips around a bit to tease him.

He growled and lifted her other leg, wrapping it around his waist. Then he thrust into her, and she cried out in ecstasy.

"Oh god—yes—yes—yes!" she cried, throwing her head back as he picked up the pace.

This time felt more intense than the times before, maybe because they were both completely naked for the first time. She felt her breasts bouncing up and down, brushing against his chest as he thrust into her repeatedly. She couldn't stop her cries of pleasure. She didn't care anymore whether or not they got caught—this was so, so worth it.

"Fuck, Granger. Just come already," he grunted in a strained voice, reaching one hand down to rub her clit as he continued to shove into her. "I don't think—I can last—"

Then tremors shook her whole body as she flew over the edge, and she let out a scream that drowned out his words. He shouted as he reached his release, and she felt herself convulsing around him, milking out his seed.

He was panting, trying to catch his breath, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. He still had her pressed up against the wall, still hadn't pulled out of her. She lifted her hands from around him to brush the hair away from his face, and then she leaned forward slightly to kiss his lips softly.

"Thank you," she murmured.

She looked at his eyes and saw confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I… I don't know," said Hermione.

He smirked. "Still think we shouldn't do this anymore?"

"This was the last time," she said firmly.

"You think you can go on without ever feeling that anymore?"

She could already feel doubt growing in her mind, but she was determined not to let him break down her resolve.

"Yes, I can."

Then she inadvertently shifted her hips a little and felt him hardening again inside her.

He groaned. "Bloody hell. You can't possibly not want this."

His hips surged forward and she felt herself getting wetter with desire again. He was fully erect again already.

She bit back a moan.

He leaned forward and breathed in her ear, "Do you really want it to be over? Really? If you say yes, I'll go right now."

He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue and she shuddered.

"What's it gonna be?"

His hips rocked against hers again, and her breath caught in her throat.

"Malfoy, honestly. We can't possibly—"

"Just tell me. Do you want me to leave right now or not?"

She turned her head away. She didn't want to give in, but he was right. There was something about the feelings that she had when they were together that she didn't want to lose. She felt as though no one else would ever be able to pleasure her the way he did.

He shifted again, more urgently this time, and she gasped.

"Stay," she whispered, even as her mind screamed for her to tell him to leave.

His face lit up, and their lips met. He pulled out of her, and she whined in disappointment. He backed away from the door, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and carried her over to a desk, setting her down on top of it.

"Malfoy, we need to—" she began, but when he shoved back into her, her brains were effectively scrambled.

"We can talk later," he grunted, thrusting into her again.

She could only nod in reply.

A few minutes later, they both lay on the ground of the classroom. He was on his back, and she lay partially on his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. Her left hand was flat on his bare chest. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, and she felt like she'd never been that peaceful before.

Just as she thought she was going to fall asleep, Malfoy spoke.

"This is not going to end here," he said.

"No," she whispered. "No, it's not."

He replied, satisfied, "Good."

"We should establish some rules, though."

"I'm listening."

"Well… obviously, no one can know about this."

He chuckled and agreed, "Obviously."

"We… we can't fall for each other," she said.

Draco smirked. "Nothing to worry about on my side. No way I'd fall for a Mudblood. You're just a good fuck. Don't get it in your head that there's anything else."

She gritted her teeth. "I could still leave now."

"No, you couldn't."

She hated that he was right. Instead of retorting, she continued, "So, we can't get emotionally attached. We have to figure out a way to meet up. You can't just catch me off-guard like this."

"Spontaneity is great."

"But I—well I won't be wandering around in the dark often."

"I know. We'll have to come up with something."

"Actually… we're leaving Hogwarts in a few days. Maybe we should just…"

"What? Let this end? You don't want to pick this up next year?" Malfoy asked.

"I… I…"

She pounded his chest once with her fist.

"I hate you."

He laughed. "I hate you, too. Believe me."

He lifted her hand and started kissing each of her fingertips, sending shivers up her arm.

"I just can't seem to leave you alone, though," he added when his lips left her thumb and he replaced her hand on his chest.

"We probably won't have time to meet again before summer holiday," said Hermione.

She felt a pang of disappointment in her chest and frowned at herself. Here she was, lying with the son of a Death Eater, feeling disappointed that she wouldn't be able to shag him over the summer. She needed to be checked into a mental facility. Maybe they could send her to St. Mungo's.

"No, probably not."

He suddenly shifted and rolled over so that he was on top of her, and she looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"We should get busy then, so we'll be able to last a couple months."

"But Malfoy—" Hermione began, but she stopped when his eyes narrowed, discontent. "Draco, then." He appeared satisfied. "Draco, we should get back to our rooms."

"My mates are all asleep. They won't wake till morning. Bit of sleeping potion took care of that."

"But my roommates—"

"Just forget everything. Right now, it's just you and me. We're the only two people in the world. And we've got all the time we need."

"Draco, honestly—"

His lips crashed down on hers, and she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give in so easily. She wasn't quite finished listing rules… but then again, she couldn't think of anything else to add. His hands explored her body, becoming familiar with her soft curves. She gasped when he started rubbing one of her nipples, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. As soon as she tasted his tongue, her control fell apart. She squirmed under his touch and began exploring his body as he was hers.

He dropped his head so that his lips hovered by her ear and whispered words that sent chills through her.

"I'm never going to let you go. You'll never be rid of me."


	5. The Forbidden Forest

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 1 and takes place maybe a month or two into their fifth year at Hogwarts. I know that in the novels, the Inquisitorial Squad wasn't formed until a bit later on, but I tweaked it a bit. Oh, well.

**The Forbidden Forest**

She couldn't stop laughing as he led her deeper and deeper into the forest. They hadn't had a chance to be together in far too long, and just being alone with him was making her feel giddy.

Finally they reached their destination: a small clearing far into the woods.

As far as they knew, no other students knew about this clearing; Hagrid had probably happened upon it before, but they had never run into him there. A few chance encounters with centaurs had startled them in the past, but Hermione was able to use her vast knowledge to impress Firenze, Bane and, sometime later, a few other centaurs. When Magorian, the leader, chanced upon them, he unexpectedly decided to let them stay, out of respect for the surprisingly intelligent human.

Draco stopped and wrapped his arms around Hermione so tightly that she thought she would suffocate.

"Draco—I can't breathe," she wheezed.

He loosened his hold on her only slightly. "I can't bear to be away from you for so long. It's been more than a week since we were last here."

"I know. You're not the only one who feels like every second we spend apart is painful."

Draco kissed her lips, and she cupped his cheeks with her hands.

"Why haven't you been able to come?" he asked. "I tried you so many nights."

"My roommates keep staying up late, discussing boys. I can't just tell them I'm going out on prefect duty all the time. They wouldn't believe me."

Draco sighed. "I hate your roommates."

"Yeah well, I hate the Inquisitorial Squad."

The corners of his mouth turned down. "I'm sorry. I—"

"I don't want you to apologize. It's just…"

"Everyone would know that something was fishy if I wasn't in it," said Draco softly. "People would start to suspect… and then they might find out about us."

Hermione sighed heavily. "Yes, I know."

They stood locked in an embrace for a short while, and then Draco spoke.

"That Umbridge, I can't stand her or her bowtie, or her cats. I can't stand any of it. I never thought I'd commend any of your redheaded friends, but the Weasley twins had the right idea."

Hermione laughed. "They're something, aren't they."

He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. Then he whispered, "I've missed this smell so much."

Hermione tugged lightly on the hair at the nape of his neck, and he let out a low growl, backing up to attack her mouth with his.


	6. Jealousy

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 16 and takes place in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

**Jealousy**

Draco threw her against the wall, and this time it hurt. But before she could protest, his lips had covered hers again. His hands were roaming across her body, but he was pressing very hard, gripping her tightly.

With a mountain of effort, she turned her head away from him and gasped as he kissed his way down her neck and bit down, hard, at the base.

Hermione cried out and pushed against his chest.

"Draco, stop. Draco!"

He released her and backed up a step, and she noticed that he was glaring at her.

"What's your problem?" she demanded.

They were standing in the Prefects' bathroom on the fifth floor, naked. They'd been planning to meet here for a few days, but the timing was never right.

"Nothing."

"Well there's obviously something wrong, because you were hurting me," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

"Was I?" said Draco in mock sarcasm. "I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time."

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing."

"Look, if you don't want to do this anymore, just say so, and I'll go," said Hermione, putting her hands on her hips.

She refused to let her eyes wander anywhere on his body besides his eyes; she was already having a hard enough time suppressing the lusty impulses that those eyes alone were stirring up within her.

When Draco didn't speak up, Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll see you later."

"Wait," said Draco as she started walking past him.

Hermione sighed again and looked up at him. "What?"

He seemed reluctant to speak.

"Oh, spit it out, will you? Are you scared?"

"Weasley."

Something clicked, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. Draco glared at her.

A few days ago, Hermione had gone to the library to read a book on vampire legends, but it had been checked out already. Disappointed, she had complained to Harry and Ron about it and had been excited to learn that Ron had seen that particular book at the house. At Hermione's request, Ron had owled his mum to send the book over.

That morning in the Great Hall, Errol had arrived with the package, and after receiving it from Ron, Hermione had thanked him with a hug.

"Draco, are you… jealous?"

"No!" Draco snapped, but his eyes betrayed him.

"Oh my goodness, you are! I don't believe it! Draco Malfoy, jealous because of me!" she laughed.

Draco snarled and launched himself at her.

Hermione tried to move so that she'd be out of his reach, but she slipped on the wet floor and started falling into the large, pool-like tub. She grabbed onto Draco's arm to steady herself but only succeeded in pulling both of them into the tub with a giant splash.

Her head was yanked above the water, and she barely had time to draw a quick breath before Draco swooped in for a bruising kiss.

She wrapped her arms around him and met his fury with an equal amount of passion. He growled in approval and crushed her against him. She felt his erection against her lower abdomen and slid her hand down to grip it lightly.

He groaned, throwing his head back, and she took the opportunity to slide her lips down his neck. She nipped at his Adam's apple as she slid her hand up and down in the water.

Draco pulled her head back up and kissed her, pushing her hand out of the way and positioning himself at her entrance. She quivered in anticipation, and when he didn't move, she started to lower herself onto him. When he was about halfway in, he tightened his arms around her, restricting her movement.

She wriggled in disappointment for a moment, and he backed his head up an inch to look at her expression. She was annoyed by the amused look on his face.

"Wipe that smile off your face," she breathed.

"Why don't you?"

She shoved his hands away from her, wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself onto him in one strong pull. He groaned.

"I just did," she said.

Then he jerked his hips upward, and she gasped. He pushed her back against the side of the tub and slowly pulled out. She was about to protest when he slammed home again, eliciting a loud cry from her. He repeated the motion several times, always bringing her so, so close. She glared at him and thrust her hips up to meet his the next time he plunged in, and he sank deeper into her. They both moaned.

She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly, restricting his range of motion so that he couldn't pull out as far anymore. He stopped moving.

Hermione wriggled against him.

"Move, Draco," she demanded.

"This is your punishment."

"Punishment? I only gave Ron a hug, Draco."

"I don't care. You're mine. You got that? You're _mine_," he growled in her ear.

She thrust her hips against his in an attempt to get him to start moving again, but he had better control over his impulses than she'd expected.

"Please…"

He pulled his head back to smirk at her.

"Draco, move your arse!"

Hermione reached up to put her hands around his neck and pulled his head down so that she could kiss him. She massaged his tongue with hers and whimpered when he finally shifted a little inside her.

"No—please, don't stop," she mumbled around his mouth.

Draco started sliding in and out of her just a little, and she gasped in rhythm with his thrusts, grinding her hips against his. Even after she'd reached her climax, he continued to plunge into her mercilessly. She clung to his broad, firm shoulders tightly as the pleasure began to border on pain. She wanted to tell him to stop, but she couldn't stop moaning long enough to get out the words.

Before she knew it, she was falling apart a second time. He called her name as he finally released his seed into her. Finally sated, he let his forehead fall into the crook of her neck.

"Damn," Hermione murmured breathlessly into his shoulder. "I should make you jealous more often."


	7. Getting into Detention

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 11 and takes place in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

**Getting into Detention**

Hermione sighed. "If there ever were to be a pair of star-crossed lovers, it'd be us."

Draco shook his head. "I never cared much for Shakespeare. He was a lunatic. But I guess we're as star-crossed as they come, aren't we?"

She was staring at him. "You've read _Romeo and Juliet_?"

"Why is that so surprising?"

"I just… I never thought you would read Muggle literature."

"I'm an only child, and my parents didn't exactly like to play with me. As a kid, I read anything that I could get my hands on."

"Wow… I didn't expect us to have that in common. Turns out we were both rabid readers as kids."

"I think you're still a rabid reader."

"Obviously." Hermione smiled. "O Draco, Draco, wherefore art thou Draco? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Gryffindor."

Draco laughed as she finished. He leaned down and kissed her nose. "You never cease to amuse me."

"Amuse? Are you sure you didn't mean amaze?"

He smirked. "Yes, I'm sure."

Then they heard footsteps coming from around the corner. Draco dropped his bag loudly.

"Oi, Mudblood! Watch where you're going!" he exclaimed.

Hermione played along, "You crashed into me, you snob-nosed, spineless git!"

Zabini walked around the corner and saw Hermione. "Well, I wondered who would be able to piss off Draco so much. I should've known it was Mudblood Granger."

"Why, it's so nice to see you too, you insufferable, unmitigated prat," said Hermione.

Draco stooped to pick up his bag, but Zabini held out his hand, stopping him.

"Wait," he said.

Draco glanced sideways at his friend but straightened up again.

"Mudblood Granger here should pick it up for you, since she ran into you."

"Don't make me hex you, Zabini."

He pulled out his wand. "Go ahead. I'm ready."

Hermione glared at him, then turned around and started walking away.

"Don't you walk away from us," she heard Draco say.

"Try and stop me, then."

"Locomotor Mortis!" Draco said.

Hermione's legs locked together, and she grabbed onto a nearby door handle for support. She heard Zabini cackling and flushed, whipping her wand out.

"Finite Incantatem," she muttered.

Then she whirled around, livid. Draco had a playful grin on his face, and she wanted to storm over to him and kiss him senseless. Instead, she pointed her wand at his bag.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she said with a swish and a flick.

The bag floated up in front of Draco.

"There. Happy?"

"Oh, I don't know. What do you think, Blaise? Don't you think an apology is in order?"

"Don't test me, boys," said Hermione.

"You may have better grades than me, but you don't have all that much dueling experience," said Zabini.

"Do you really think so? Care to try me?"

Before Zabini could respond, she had pointed her wand at him and thought, _Levicorpus!_

Zabini was hoisted into the air by his ankles, dropping his wand in the process.

"Expelliarmus!" said Draco, and Hermione's wand flew out of her hand.

"You Disarmed her? You're supposed to hex her!" said Zabini, vainly struggling to get down.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the sight as she walked toward Draco to retrieve her wand.

Draco looked at her with perfectly studied disdain. "For Mudblood scum like her? She's not worth it." He pointed his wand at Zabini and said, "Liberacorpus."

Zabini was set back down on his feet.

Hermione had reached Draco by then and held out her hand, palm up. "Give me back my wand."

"Granger, I'm surprised. I thought you and all your goody-goody friends would be so much more polite."

"Draco Malfoy, give me back my wand."

"Why don't you try saying the magic word?" said Draco.

As he spoke those words, Harry and Ron rounded the corner.

"Malfoy, get away from her!" Harry shouted.

"She was the one who came over here," said Draco. "We were just leaving."

He turned to leave, and Hermione grabbed his arm. He immediately pulled it back.

"Don't touch me, you filthy little—"

"DON'T!" Ron cried, pointing his wand at Draco.

Instead of being intimidated, Draco looked at Ron with an amused expression. "Be careful there, Weaselbee. You don't want to be belching slugs for the next hour and a half."

Harry pushed Ron's wand arm down.

"That's right," said Zabini. "Be a good dog and listen to your master."

Harry held Ron back when he started to charge at Zabini. "He'll get what's coming to him eventually, just not right now."

Hermione and Draco had locked eyes, sharing a moment while their friends were adequately distracted.

Zabini laughed. "And what's coming to me? If anyone should be worried about what's coming, it should be Mud—"

Ron's beet-red face seemed to get even redder. "SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"Ronald, calm down!" said Hermione.

Zabini had pointed his wand at Ron with a wicked grin, but Draco put a hand on his friend's arm.

"Blaise, forget it. Weren't you going to go see Snape in a few minutes?" he asked. When Zabini raised his eyebrows, Draco added, "I can handle a few righteous Gryffindor kittens on my own."

"Piss off, Malfoy," said Harry.

Zabini turned to head toward the dungeons.

"Oh no, you don't! You're not going anywhere!" yelled Ron, finally shoving Harry away from him.

Ron raced toward Zabini, who turned and ran around the corner. Harry chased after both of them. Hermione reached over and took her wand out of Draco's hand.

As soon as the boys had disappeared around the corner, Hermione grabbed Draco by the lapels and pulled him into a quick kiss. She'd been on the verge of jumping him right in front of Harry, Ron, and Zabini, and if she didn't get to kiss him soon, she thought she'd die.

Then she pulled back and whispered, "We should probably follow them."

Draco rubbed her arms gently. "Yes, we probably should." He gave her arms a light squeeze.

Then they both took off down the hall to catch up with their friends. They found them hurling hexes at each other on a staircase leading down to the Great Hall. Draco stopped Hermione before she went around the corner, pushing her back. They both peeked around to watch. Then Draco flicked his wand, and horns started sprouting from Ron's head.

Ron spun around, but Draco and Hermione had ducked behind the wall again. "COME OUT!" they heard Ron roar.

Draco and Hermione were both fighting hard not to laugh, but when a group of Ravenclaw girls rounded the corner and started walking in their direction, Hermione shoved Draco away from her and pointed her wand at him. Before she could fire a spell, she heard Professor Snape's voice ring out loudly.

"What's this ruckus?"


	8. Draco's Childhood

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 13 and takes place close to winter break in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

**Draco's Childhood**

"Oh, come on," said Hermione, smiling. "Just tell me."

He sighed. "Why is it so important to you?"

"I'm just curious. I want to know what it was like for you, growing up. I answered all of your questions about my childhood, didn't I?"

"You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"You shouldn't be ashamed, Draco. You didn't choose your family."

Draco shifted, and Hermione propped herself up to let him get comfortable.

"It's okay," he said, and she snuggled close to him again.

They were lying under a thick, warm blanket at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It had snowed that day, and they'd come up to look at the view. Light from the moon reflected off the snow, making it sparkle. The lake was completely covered by ice and shone in the night. The grounds had an ethereal glow about them.

They'd spent a while taking in the view before Hermione complained about the cold, and Draco had suggested a very pleasing way to warm her up.

"What does your home look like?" she asked.

"You just won't take no for an answer, will you?"

"Nope."

She kissed his neck and gently ran her hand along his bare torso, enjoying the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her fingertips.

"All right, then. I live in a mansion in Wiltshire. You know where that is, I'm guessing."

Hermione nodded. "Of course."

He laughed. "Yes, of course. You're the brilliant Mudblood witch who knows everything."

She realized that he'd said "Mudblood" again, but it didn't affect her at all anymore—it had stopped being an insult to her long ago.

"I don't know where to start," he said. "I've never described my house to anyone before."

"Start with the entrance, then. If I wanted to go to your house, how would I get inside?"

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to get inside."

"Why not?" asked Hermione, frowning.

"You're an outsider. We have a set of wrought-iron gates. No one can get past them unless they're allowed. If you tried to enter, a mouth would form to ask who you were, and we would know someone was trespassing on our property."

"Interesting. I wonder what kind of spell—"

"You _would_ start wondering about the type of spell. Next thing you'd do is run off to the library to find a book on charms."

Hermione lifted her head off his chest and pouted at him.

"All right, I'm sorry."

He pulled her up to give her a quick peck on the lips, but she surprised him by inserting her lower lip between his, tugging his upper lip into her own mouth to suck on it. There was an almost immediate reaction from him down below, and she giggled.

"Ooh, did I wake someone up?" she teased.

"Oh, now you're gonna get it," he growled, flipping them over and crushing the blanket beneath them.

She shivered as he scooted down and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She moaned and felt herself getting warm and wet again. Then he started kissing his way down her flat stomach.

"Draco, it's cold," she complained, trying to get the blanket out from under her.

His hands pried her legs apart, and then two fingers rubbed along her dripping slit. She inhaled sharply when those fingers slid inside her warmth. Still, she couldn't hold back from shivering. It was freezing. He seemed to notice this and pulled his fingers away from her. She whined at the loss of contact, but he lifted her up, tugging the blanket out from under her and throwing it over both of them.

"Thank you," she said.

He smirked and plunged his fingers back inside her.

"Oh _god_, thank you," she moaned.

His thumb rubbed her clit in a circular motion, just the way she liked it, but he kept working her right up to the edge before slowing his pace or stopping his thrusts. She squirmed against him to no avail and let out a frustrated growl.

"Stop teasing me!"

He lowered his head and withdrew his fingers, replacing them immediately with his tongue. She moaned and arched her back, bucking her hips. His hands held her still while he ate at her hungrily. When she finally came, screaming her release, he lapped up her juices before climbing up to hover over her. He kissed her, and she could taste herself—tangy and sweet—on his tongue.

She grabbed onto his hips, positioning him near her entrance, and he smirked into the kiss as he plunged deep into her wet opening. She was so lost in pleasure that she thought she might start sobbing. Her nails scraped down his back as he pounded roughly into her. He hissed and increased the tempo of his thrusts, moaning her name softly.

Waves of pleasure rolled over her for the third time that night, and she gripped him tightly as he finished his last few thrusts, still calling her name. His lips covered hers, and she massaged his tongue with hers. This kiss was slow, gentle. Heat rose in her chest, and she felt extremely content.

He shifted to lie beside her, sliding an arm beneath her head and pulling her to his chest possessively.

"So, want to tell me some more about your home?" she asked when she could breathe properly again.

Draco sighed. "It's… home isn't the right word to describe it."

She frowned, tilting her head back to look at him, but she could only see his chin, jaw, and a bit of his cheek.

"Don't get me wrong. I love the place. It's just… it's so impersonal. I see the house elves around the house more often than my parents."

She slid her arms around him to hold him, and he gently rubbed her back.

"The rooms are all pretty open. We keep the furnishings simple but elegant. My mother is very particular about furniture, always fretting about whether something will be too much or not. She fusses over my appearance a lot, whether or not we're expecting guests. I can't ever dress casually."

"Really? That's odd. I can't imagine dressing up to walk around my own home."

He shrugged. "That's just the way it is."

"What are your parents like?"

There was a pause before Draco spoke. "My mother is very loving. She cares a lot about me."

Hermione frowned. "You don't sound very sincere."

"No, I suppose not. It's not her fault. It's more of my father's problem. He… he puts limits on the amount of time that my mother is allowed to spend with me."

"That's… appalling."

"He doesn't want me to get soft. Personally, I think his mum just didn't love him enough, and now he's taking it out on me," Draco said bitterly.

"Oh, Draco," Hermione whispered, squeezing him tight and leaving kisses on his chest. "Death Eater or not, your father must love his own son."

His arms tightened around her. "I don't want to talk about my father. My mother… I'm grateful for her."

"I feel so sorry for her. I don't think I would be able to bear having a time limit on how much time I could spend with my children."

"She got used to it over the years," said Draco.

Hermione closed her eyes and continued to hold him. She really hadn't known much about his parents at all, save that his father was among the Death Eaters who had shown up at the graveyard to support Voldemort. She felt bad for him, having to grow up in such a rigid, cold home. And she sympathized with Mrs. Malfoy—she couldn't imagine how it would feel to be told by her own husband that she wasn't allowed to spend as much time with her son as she wanted.


	9. Malfoy Sr

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 7 and takes place relatively late in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

**Malfoy Sr.**

"Stop—" Hermione held Draco's hands down away from her, calming her breathing. "I think I heard something," she whispered.

Draco smirked. "Nonsense. Who else would be out so late at night?"

He lowered his lips to hers again, and she released his hands to push him away. Bad idea. His hands wrapped around her, pulling her tight against his chest, and the feeling of his hot skin against hers was enough to make her lightheaded. She gasped as quietly as she could when he trailed kisses along her jaw to her ear.

Then they heard a voice outside.

"Honestly, I don't see why we couldn't talk about this in the common room. Or in our own room, for that matter. You know, like normal people who want to gossip?"

Hermione froze but Draco's teeth tugged lightly on her earlobe, and she bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. She felt Draco's silent laughter against her ear and gave him a hard punch in the stomach.

"Not funny," she hissed.

"Oh, this isn't just any gossip. I mean, you ask about something like this, and it's impossible to talk about it anywhere where anyone could possibly overhear us."

"All right, all right. Spit it out, then."

Draco's removed her bra, and she shoved at his chest. He captured her hands and slid down to lap at one of her breasts. She had to repress another moan, arching her back up against him.

"What exactly do you want to know?"

"Well… what happened to that one reporter who said bad things about… you know, his family?"

"Oh ho, you chose a juicy one."

"Oh god, am I going to want to hear this?"

Draco was suckling her other breast now, and she drew a sharp breath. Thankfully, the two girls outside seemed too engrossed in their own conversation.

"First of all, he restrained her and waited for her husband to get home, and then he Stunned her husband and killed him really slowly. Like, with a knife."

Shocked silence.

Hermione was frightened. Who were they talking about? Then Draco's hands were between her legs. Her underwear was gone, and a finger thrust up inside her. Her hips bucked against him reflexively, and desire surged through her. His mouth quickly covered hers, stifling her moan.

"He made her watch him bleed to death."

"Oh, please say that was it."

"Don't be silly. He hadn't even gotten started yet."

"I'm not sure I want to hear this anymore."

"Oh, I can't believe you're such a scaredy-cat. My goodness Millicent, I thought you were… well, gutsier than this."

Draco had inserted a second finger followed by a third, and was pumping in and out of Hermione, but even as her hips thrust up to meet his fingers, she couldn't stop listening to the conversation. How could he disregard the girls' conversation like that? His tongue twisted with hers, and her mind blanked.

"Fine, tell me."

"Well, I hear he always started by prying off their fingernails and toenails. Oh, don't make that face at me. You look pathetic."

"How are you not disgusted by this?"

"Disgusted? What he does, it's art."

Draco twisted his hand a little so that he could rub his thumb against her little bundle of nerves in rhythm with each thrust of his fingers, and with two more thrusts, she came, her insides convulsing around him. Her cry of ecstasy was muffled by his mouth, but there was still some sound. Hermione found that she didn't care at that moment whether or not they got caught.

But the two Slytherin girls outside seemed not to have heard her.

"Merlin, don't say that Pansy, you're scaring me."

"Don't be such a baby. How do you ever expect to serve the Dark Lord if you can't handle just listening to this?"

Hermione hadn't come down from her high yet when Draco thrust his long, hard member into her. She almost cried out in surprise, but she bit down hard on her lip, drawing blood this time.

"Oh, god," she whispered, that same ache for him flaring hot inside her even though she'd just peaked moments before.

"Not god. Draco," he breathed by her ear between thrusts.

Her hips thrust up to meet his, and they both struggled to stay quiet, locking their lips together to muffle each other.

"After nails and feet, he went for her stomach, because she had let slip a lot of secrets. He said that she'd spilled her guts onto the paper, and he was going to do the same, only his version would be a lot more literal."

"That is just… sick."

"I have to admit that even for me, that'd be a bit hard to stomach."

Hermione was losing control. She was close, so, so close, and she didn't want him to stop, but she was almost positive that as soon as she came, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from screaming. She started to push at Draco's chest, but there was no stopping him. He pumped harder and faster, and her hips increased their rhythm to match his, pulling him in deeper each time.

Then she was lost in ecstasy, clamping tightly around him as she climaxed. He came right after her, pumping a few more times as he emptied himself into her. She was surprised she hadn't screamed.

"Holy fuck, Hermione," he whispered in her ear, collapsing on top of her.

Hermione had missed some of the conversation outside when she was far away in outer space, but she soon became aware that the two girls were still talking.

"And she was somehow still alive… after all of this?"

"He knows a spell that can do that."

"It's impossible! She would have bled out by then."

"It takes a long time to bleed out if your major arteries aren't severed."

Draco rolled off her to lie on his back, and she shifted onto her side, using his shoulder as a pillow. She stroked his chest with her fingertips, still catching her breath.

"Well, please tell me that's it."

"You were the one who said you wanted _all_ the details."

"So there's more? God, after nails, feet, guts, arms, legs… there really can't be much else left, can there? I'd be delirious!"

"Another spell takes care of that," said Parkinson.

Draco shifted to pull Hermione closer to him. "Don't listen to them," he whispered.

"I think it's too late for that," Hermione whispered back.

"What did he do next, then?" Bulstrode asked.

"He started slicing into her cheeks. Oh, and I forgot to mention. He usually conjures up a mirror, so that they can see themselves while he's at work. I think she already had a mirror in the living room, so he didn't even have to go to that trouble."

"I can't believe your parents told you this."

"Oh no, I didn't. My dad was telling my mum one night, and I overheard. I guess my dad was there to see it. He offered to help, but Mr. Malfoy insisted that he work alone."

Hermione didn't hear anything after the word, "Malfoy," came out of Parkinson's mouth. She froze, and beside her, Draco stiffened. She took a deep breath, wanting to scream at him, but she couldn't yet, not while Parkinson and Bulstrode were still standing in the classroom outside.

Instead, she tried to push away from him. He rolled over, trapping her body with his so that she couldn't escape. She looked up to see his silver eyes inches away from hers, speaking volumes. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to be talked out of this. This monster Parkinson and Bulstrode had been talking about was _his_ father? She should have expected it.

It felt like years before they heard Bulstrode complaining about the cold and how she wanted to go back to the Slytherin Dungeon to go to bed. Parkinson followed her out of the room, still ranting about how much of a whiny little nobody Bulstrode was being.

When they heard the classroom door close with a snap, Hermione shoved at Draco's chest.

"Get off me," she said evenly.

"Hermione, please. It's my father, not me. I've never—"

"Get off me, now."

Draco seemed to sense how angry she was, but he didn't waver. "No."

Hermione started to push away at him again, but he just collapsed on top of her, pinning her hands between their stomachs. She yanked them out and sunk her nails into his shoulders, clawing her way down his arms. He gritted his teeth and didn't make a sound.

"Get off!"

He glared at her and lowered his head to cover her mouth with his. She turned her face away, and he let his lips wander up and down her neck instead.

"You're not just going to kiss this away, Draco. It's not that easy. Now get off me!"

He stopped kissing her neck but still didn't get off her. "So is this it, then? Are you going to end this right now, because my father is a sick bastard?"

Hermione blinked. She couldn't see his face—it was hovering down by her collarbone, where he'd stopped his kissing.

"Please get off me," she said.

"Fine."

Draco rolled off her, and the sudden loss of his body heat made Hermione shiver. She sat up and lit her wand so she could find her clothing and get dressed. Draco was standing, and he'd already pulled on his boxers and pants and was in the process of putting his belt on. She'd never seen him get dressed so quickly.

"Draco..."

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry. I was overreacting. I just…"

"Just what?"

"I wish you would tell me these things, so that I wouldn't have to hear them from other people, like Pansy Parkinson."

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not particularly proud of that part of my life."

He pushed open the door to the small storage room they'd been in and strode out into the now-empty classroom.

"Draco, wait," said Hermione, getting up. She'd gotten her bra and panties on and was pulling on a pair of jeans.

Draco turned around to face her. "Look, I thought you'd know what I was like by now. I thought you'd know that I'm not like my family. I'm not a blind follower. I don't want this—" he gestured between them "—to be over. But if you can't handle hearing something about my father that makes you sick, it's better if we just end it here."

"Well, how else do you expect this to end, Draco? We're not going to have a nice ending, happily ever after. You can't honestly have thought that."

"Yeah, well. I thought we'd have each other, at least. But you know what, I don't need anyone. I was alone my whole life before I met you. I was doing fine back then, and I'll do fine from now on. Without you."

There was a pang in Hermione's chest as she watched him walk towards the door.

"You don't mean that, do you?" she asked in a small voice.

Why was she being so pathetic? It'd be better for both of them if she let him walk right through that door. It'd be better if they treated this like a long fantasy, something that never happened.

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "I've already said that I don't want it to be over. What else do I have to say?" he said without turning around.

Hermione ran to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Don't go," she whispered.

Pathetic. Weak. Useless. That's what she was.

She'd somehow grown to rely on his presence. He made her feel safe, even as he exploited his newfound "Inquisitorial Squad" powers to bully people. Somehow, she was reassured that it was all just an act, that the real Draco Malfoy was far from despicable. He'd gotten under her skin, and she couldn't shake him, couldn't force herself to be rid of him. Had she really fallen for him at last?

Wretched. Hopeless. Addicted. Addicted to a boy who probably didn't even really care about her.

He turned around in her arms, and she looked up at him, staring at his eyes, hoping to find the answer she wanted. His eyes had softened a little, but they retained a bit of that hard edge to them.

"Hermione," he began.

She closed her eyes. She still loved the sound of her name coming out of his mouth.

Draco continued, "Why do you keep me here?"

His lips touched her forehead, and she could breathe again, relieved. He wasn't leaving her. Oh, she was pathetic. But he wasn't leaving.

"I don't know," she said quietly.

She leaned into him, lifting herself up a little to kiss his lips. He kissed her back and then pulled away, but he put his arms around her and gently stroked up and down her mostly bare back.

"Tomorrow, I have a patrol along the hallway to the Room of Requirement at a very inconvenient time, for you. Tell Harry to change the date of the DA meeting."

"What?"

"Tell Harry to—"

"How can you possibly know about…?"

Draco smirked. "I have my ways. I can know anything I want to know."

"Honestly, Draco, how?"

He shook his head. "A magician never reveals his secrets. Just make sure you change the date. It's going to be awkward if I have to catch you and take you to Umbridge."

Hermione sighed, relenting. "Fine. I'll force you to tell me another day."

"You wish," said Draco, leaning down to kiss her again. "We should go, before Filch or Peeves stumbles across us."

"Okay. Just… Draco, I want you to promise me something."

Draco nodded.

"Please… don't become a Death Eater like your dad. You said that you're not a blind follower, and I believe you, but you still have to show me. I'm not someone who can just have blind faith in someone."

"I won't. I promise."

Hermione smiled. "Good night."

"Good night."

Draco released her, and she let her arms fall away from him. He opened the door and disappeared into the darkness outside. She went back into the small storage closet to find her shirt and robes, and then she left as well.

That night, she couldn't sleep. Her imagination was running wild with the terrible torture techniques she'd heard about from Parkinson and Bulstrode. It wasn't Draco's fault, but she wished that he had a different father…


	10. Midnight Flight

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 10 and takes place towards the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts. It's one of my personal favorites (:

**Midnight Flight**

"I really, really don't want to do this, Draco."

"If you really didn't want to, you wouldn't be here."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I'm only here because you said you'd wait all night if I didn't come."

"Well, you're here already. Come on."

She looked at the broom.

It was way past midnight, and they were standing on the Quidditch pitch. The sky was free of clouds, and the moon and stars shone brightly.

"Honestly, I'm an awful flier, and I'm afraid of heights, and I—" she babbled.

Draco scowled. "Oh, quit whining. I thought you were supposed to be brave."

"You can't say that I belong in Slytherin one day and then criticize me for not acting like a Gryffindor the next, Draco."

He just laughed, amused. "Sure I can. Hop on."

"I'm gonna kill you," Hermione grumbled.

She mounted the broom in front of Draco, and he reached around in front of her to grip the handle. He kicked off, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, sitting stiffly.

"Relax, Hermione," Draco whispered in her ear. "Open your eyes."

"No. If I see how high up we are, I'm going to scream."

"We aren't even that high up," he reassured her.

Hermione cracked her eye open a bit and gasped. They had to be at least fifty feet high. She held back a scream and whimpered, "This isn't that high?"

Draco chuckled and squeezed her with his upper arms, his hands still tightly grasping the handle of the broom. "Don't worry, Hermione. You can't fall when you're in my arms."

She just shook her head, closing her eyes again. Not being able to see just how high they were made her feel better.

"Wanna see how fast we can go?" she heard him ask.

"I'd really rather—"

Draco suddenly leaned forward, shoving her forward against the broom, and her last word came out in a scream.

"—NOOOOOOOOOOTT!"

He was laughing in her ear as they bolted forward. Then he gave the broom an upward tug, and they started climbing upward, higher and higher.

"Stop—stop—STOP! We're gonna fall—we're gonna die!"

"Relax," said Draco as he pulled level and slowed the broom to a stop.

Hermione was staring down now—she couldn't stop imagining how dreadful it'd be to fall from this height. The Quidditch pitch looked like a small oval to her.

"Stop looking down," Draco said in her ear, still sounding amused.

"I can't."

Draco's left hand released the broom, and Hermione squealed, making him laugh again. She thought they'd fall, but they stayed steady. He used his free hand to tilt her chin upward and lowered his voice.

"Look at the stars from here."

His hand went back to its original position on the broom, and she felt safer. She let her eyes wander across the night sky, taking in the sparkling flecks that stood out from the surrounding blackness. Each star had a little halo of light surrounding it, something she hadn't ever taken the time to notice before. Or maybe it was just because she'd never looked at the stars from so close up.

"They're… beautiful," she said.

"Now tell me, would you ever get a view like this from down below?"

Hermione glanced to her right and noticed that they were hovering higher up than the Astronomy Tower.

"Hermione?" Draco said inquiringly.

She'd relaxed considerably, leaning back on him.

"I haven't ever been this high up before," she said.

Draco laughed yet again. She enjoyed that sound—she'd heard it so many times this night, but it still didn't seem enough.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, easing the broom forward a little.

Hermione giggled. "You sound like Aladdin."

"Who's that?"

"Never mind. Um, no. I don't trust you at all."

She could practically hear his smirk as he replied, "Aw, too bad."

Suddenly, the broom handle turned downward, and Hermione screamed as they plummeted down. The ground, which had seemed too dangerously far away before, was now rushing up to meet them, coming closer and closer far too quickly for her comfort. She felt like her heart had leapt into her throat, and she couldn't stop screaming.

Just as she decided that they'd hit the ground for sure, Draco tugged up on the handle, and they were level again. Hermione finally stopped screaming, gasping for air. Draco whooped excitedly.

"Damn, that's even more fun with an extra person on board. Let's do it again!"

"No—no way!"

"I was kidding. We should probably hurry up and get inside. I wouldn't be surprised if your screams woke up half the castle."

Hermione blushed furiously. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek as he flew them upward, around to the other side of the castle.

"I'll drop you off at your window," he said.

They reached it within seconds, and she pulled out her wand to open the window. She climbed in, terrified of losing her footing and falling to her death. Something told her Draco would have been able to catch her.

When she was inside, he drifted even closer to the window and pulled her over to taste her lips.

"I wish you could stay," she whispered, looking into his eyes.

Draco smiled. "Next time."

Hermione pouted. "I don't even know when we'll get to see each other again."

"Double Potions tomorrow, silly."

She shook her head. "You know what I mean. We've only got a few weeks left."

Draco leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. "If we can't meet again this term, I'll fly by your window on the last night, all right? I promise."

"I want you to come whether or not we see each other before the term ends."

"Whatever you want."

"Don't you dare forget."

"I won't."

They shared another brief kiss, and he zoomed away from the window, darkness enveloping him as he got farther away until he was just a dark shape. Then he rounded the next tower and disappeared from sight.


	11. OWLS

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 8 and takes place at the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts.

**O.W.L.S**

"Don't you think you should take a break?"

Hermione didn't look up from her book. "I can't—I'm studying. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Patrolling, of course."

"Where's Zabini, then?"

"I told him he could go back to the room and study if he wanted. Said I could go finish off the rounds. He's worried."

"And you're not?"

"Tomorrow's only Potions. Nothing difficult about that. I don't see why you're so worried, Hermione. You know you'll score better than everyone else anyway, with or without studying."

Hermione shook her head and turned the page. "I get good scores because I do study. I don't understand how you can be so relaxed."

"Hermione, will you please look at me?"

"Draco, stop bothering me. I still have another few chapters to go."

"And how many times have you read this book cover to cover already?"

It irked her how well he knew her. After reading the remaining two chapters, she would have finished the Potions book for the fourth time.

"Shut up," she snapped.

"Hey, hey, calm down. You're not going to be able to fall asleep if you stay this stressed."

"I wasn't going to go to sleep."

"Oh, come on, Hermione."

He snatched the book off the table.

"Hey!" Hermione protested, jumping to her feet.

Draco held the book over her head, out of her reach, and she glared at him.

"Give it back."

"You really need to relax. Honestly, all this stress can't be good for you."

Hermione sighed and stopped her futile struggle to get the book from him by force. She folded her arms across her chest and fixed a steely glare on him.

"I'm being very calm," she said.

Draco smirked. "That's not calm. That's waiting for me to give up and leave you alone."

"Same thing."

He turned abruptly and started walking away.

"Draco, give me back my book!"

He kept walking, and she sighed. He was going to make her chase after him, wasn't he? She waited three counts to see if he would stop walking, but as he reached the end of the shelf, he turned and kept heading toward the exit.

Hermione sighed and jogged after him.

"Oh, come on! I don't have time for this!"

She ran around the corner and crashed into something hard.

His arms snaked around her, and his head swooped down so he could kiss her. She tried to resist opening up to his mouth, tried to turn her head away, but he wound his fingers into her hair, holding her head in place. His tongue brushed across her lips, and she longed to feel it stroking the inside of her mouth. She caved to that longing and pressed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

She could feel the smile on his lips as he shoved his tongue into her eagerly waiting mouth, and she tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck. Her whole body tingled as his hands ran down her clothed back. She slid her hands back over his shoulders and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Draco hummed in satisfaction and backed her into a wall. She pushed the shirt over his shoulders, and he released her long enough to let it fall to the ground behind him. She trailed her hand up and down over his taut abs and leaned forward to kiss him again.

His hand came up, and a finger covered her lips. She met his gaze and saw that he was about to speak, so she took his forefinger into her mouth, sucking gently. He opened his mouth, and instead of words, a groan tore from his throat. She sucked harder, and he pulled his finger back.

"Stop that," he said, his voice tight.

"You don't like losing control, do you?" said Hermione with a devilish grin.

Draco smirked. "Like you could make me lose control."

She ground her hips against his and felt him harden.

"Boy, you know I can."

She pulled her shirt off and discarded it to the side.

He hissed. "Green tonight, eh? Did you know I was coming?"

"Maybe," said Hermione, smirking.

It was a coincidence that she'd picked that bra, but he didn't have to know that. She took a step forward and slowly rubbed her hands up and down his back, feeling the muscles tense up under her fingertips. She looked up at his eyes to see that they were stormy and grey tonight. She opened her mouth slightly and let her tongue dart out to lick her lips seductively.

"I've taught you well," Draco murmured huskily.

Before she could respond, he shoved her backwards against the wall and pressed into her, clamping his mouth down over hers. She used the wall as leverage to wrap her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. She gasped as she felt the bulge in his pants starting to press into her wetness; only a few layers of fabric lay between them. She twisted her fingers into his soft hair and moaned as his hands fondled her breasts through her bra. She arched her back against him, and he slid his hands downward, breaking contact with her skin as he unbuckled his belt.

Hermione put her legs back down on the floor and started to remove her own skirt, but she stopped.

"Draco—I heard—"

Draco hushed her with an urgent look and grabbed her hand, pulling her back past the table where she'd been working earlier. They ran silently between the shelves and into the Restricted Section.

"Our clothes—" Hermione breathed.

He just shook his head, and she fell silent. They heard the clack of hard shoes against the stone floor of the library, and a lamp was being carried between the shelves.

"I heard you! I know you're in here," Filch croaked.

Draco sighed with relief, and Hermione looked at him questioningly. He smiled and gave her a look that clearly told her to trust him. They heard Filch stumble.

"Bloody book."

"You dropped it on the floor?" Hermione mouthed at him angrily.

Draco smiled at her innocently, and she punched his arm. He shook his head at her and stepped out of the Restricted Section. Hermione reached out to grab him, but he was already out of her reach. If he wanted to get caught, she certainly wasn't going to be joining him.

"Filch!" she heard him bark authoritatively.

"M-Malfoy? What are you doing here?" asked Filch.

Hermione's eyes widened. Why did he sound afraid? Filch had always been very nasty towards the students, and Draco was no exception. If her memory hadn't failed her, Filch had treated him with the same attitude starting first year, when he'd taken them down to their detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest.

"I was meeting a friend."

"It is against school rules to—"

"I know the rules, Filch, thank you. This is a… _special_ friend of mine, and I'm sure Umbridge would have no argument against bending the rules for us. If you don't trust me, you can go ahead and talk to her yourself. After all, rules are rules. Just don't blame me if I let it slip…"

"No, no, I believe you, and Professor Umbridge wouldn't want to be disturbed this late, I'm sure."

"Well, I'm glad you understand. If you and I don't say anything, then the rules don't matter so much, do they? Unless you would rather—"

"Of course not," said Filch. "I'll be off then, wouldn't want to take up your time."

"Yes, go on."

Hermione heard Filch's clicking footsteps slowly fade away and moved out of the Restricted Section. Draco appeared from behind a bookshelf and sauntered toward her, his lips stretched in a self-satisfied smirk.

"All right, go ahead," said Hermione.

He tilted his head minutely, maintaining the same expression and the same leisurely pace. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, aren't you going to gloat about how influential you are, you arrogant twit?"

Draco shook his head, clicking his tongue a few times. "Arrogant I may be, but a twit, I most certainly am not."

Hermione smiled at him as he reached her side. "I'm sure we could fix that."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? And how would you go about turning me into a twit?"

She held his gaze while she placed her palms flat on his chest. Then she slowly trailed them down his torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Still staring into those pools of molten silver, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and let them drop to the ground. She winked playfully, then slid both her hands under his briefs and gripped his already waiting erection.

He threw his head back and hissed, stiffening. She took a small step forward so she could kiss his neck. She started stroking him slowly, and he groaned.

Hermione smiled. "Seems like Filch didn't ruin the mood, after all."

He inhaled deeply as she increased the speed of her strokes, wetting her fingers and his hard member with pre-cum. Then he pulled her hands out of his underwear and she looked up at him, confused. Had she done something wrong?

Draco kissed her, and her brain failed her again. She couldn't get enough of the taste of his tongue. She felt her nipples harden as they pressed against his bare chest, and she realized that her bra was gone. Then she was pressed against a bookshelf, and she was about to protest about how the shelves were made of wood and how she could get splinters when she felt her panties stripped from her. His thumb grazed her clit a few times, and she moaned.

Damn it all. She didn't care if her back was covered with splinters when they were finished; she just wanted him to take her right there, and she kissed him so ferociously that he seemed to get the message.

In one strong shove, he was sheathed inside her, and he swallowed her cry of pleasure. She gasped in pleasure on his second thrust.

"Oh, Draco…"

She clutched his shoulders, throwing her head back in ecstasy as he picked up the pace.

A few minutes later, she was lying on her back on the cold floor. Draco was bracing his weight above her, his eyes fixed on her adoringly. He'd never looked at her with that sparkle in his eye, and she wondered if it was just a trick of the light.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little."

He slid his arms underneath her and rolled them over so that she was lying on top of him.

"Better?"

Hermione smiled at how sweet he was acting.

"Well, you didn't turn me into a twit," he said with a small grin.

She tapped his nose with her index finger, scrunching her eyebrows together in mock thought. "I guess I misspoke. You can't be a twit. I would never have sex with a man who didn't have a properly functioning brain."

Draco laughed lightly, and she loved that familiar sound.

"I believe you," he said.

That same look in his eyes was still there, and she was almost afraid. Did he feel something for her beyond…?

"Are you okay, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione blinked. "Yes, I'm fine."

She rolled off him and looked around for her clothes. He sat up but didn't get to his feet. She'd put on her underwear and jeans and was looking around for her shirt when she remembered that they'd been making out near the entrance of the library. She went down the row of shelves and turned left to see both of their shirts, his belt, and her Potions book on the ground. She pulled her shirt on and then picked everything up.

When she returned to the place where she'd been sitting, Draco was lounging in her chair, half-dressed. She stared at his toned torso, and he smirked when he noticed her intent gaze. She flushed and put his belt and shirt down on the table.

"Are you sure you're still going to keep studying?" he asked.

She sighed. Of course he'd know just by looking at her that she was about to open the book up again.

"Yes, Draco."

He stood up and planted another kiss on her lips.

"All right, then. It's your choice. I'll lay off distracting you."

"Good," said Hermione.

Draco slung his shirt and belt over his shoulder and started walking out of the library.

"You're welcome!" he called over his shoulder.

"For what?"

"For relieving all that stress for you."

Hermione stared in his direction even after he'd turned the corner. Then she shook her head and sat down, opening the Potions book to the page she'd been on.

Damn him, he was right. She was considerably more relaxed than before.


	12. How Could You?

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 4 and takes place at the very beginning of their sixth year at Hogwarts.

**How Could You?**

She lay on the blanket-covered ground in only her bra and underwear. He planted kisses along her neck and down to the valley between her breasts, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. She deftly unbuttoned his oxford shirt and shoved it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off the rest of the way and lowered his chest against hers, covered her mouth with his.

Hermione arched her back, pressing up against him, wishing they could somehow meld into a single entity so that they would never have to be separated. She rolled them over, and he grunted as his back hit the ground.

Hermione smiled against his lips. "You have to let me be on top sometimes."

He held his arms out to his sides with a smirk. "I'm all yours. Do your worst."

She nibbled on his chin and then dragged her mouth down his neck to his torso. She sucked and bit at his left nipple, and he groaned loudly. Draco started to wrap his arms around her, but she sat up and pushed his arms to either side.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him not to move, but the words died in her throat as her eyes zoned in on his left forearm.

The Dark Mark.

She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she couldn't even see anymore. She sat up and started backing up, scooting away from him, but he reacted too quickly. He sat upright, and his arms snaked around her tightly, anchoring her to him.

"Let me go—let me go—LET ME GO!"

The arms wouldn't release her, and she cringed at the thought that that evil mark was pressed against her skin, was etched into the skin of someone she'd grown to care so much about.

She heard Draco murmuring softly but couldn't make out the words; they were mumbled too quickly, jammed too closely together. He seemed to be trying to calm her down, but she continued to struggle against his arms.

"Take your hands off of me!" she yelled loudly.

"Shh, please Hermione, just—"

"Stop touching me with that Mark!" she screamed.

His arms only tightened around her, and tears flowed freely from her eyes.

"How could you?" she sobbed. "How could you do this to me? To yourself?"

She pounded his chest with her fists, but he did nothing to stop her, just kept his arms around her. Did he think he could just wait out the storm? Each time she brought a fist down on his body, she almost winced—she didn't want to cause him pain. She was pathetic—weak and pathetic, and he had made her that way. She cursed his name and pounded harder.

"Hermione, please, please don't do this," he begged hoarsely.

She was surprised to hear his throat catch, and looked up through watery eyes just in time to see a tear slip from the corner of one of his eyes. Even when twisted in anguish, his face still somehow managed to look beautiful, perfect.

Her hand moved up to his face of its own accord and wiped away the lone tear that had escaped his eye.

They stared at each other's eyes for the longest time. Hermione began to wish that she could stop time at that moment, so that they would never have to return to reality, so that they wouldn't have to fight on opposite sides in the impending war.

"How could you?" she repeated in a whisper.

He gathered her close to his chest, and this time she didn't resist.

"I had to," he said quietly.

His voice sounded hollow, and suddenly Hermione was afraid. She tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. He seemed to be struggling with the words.

"That night in the Department of Mysteries, all of the Death Eaters, except my aunt, were captured."

Suddenly things started clicking into place in her head, and more tears fell from her eyes. How had she not realized this before? Of course there would have been consequences for the Death Eaters' failure to get the prophecy for Voldemort. She just hadn't anticipated that her Draco…

"My father… the Dark Lord blamed him for not getting the prophecy. He was going to kill me and my mother as punishment. My aunt asked him to give my family another chance…"

Hermione clung to Draco and sobbed into his shoulder, not caring that they were both half-naked, sitting on a blanket in the middle of a clearing, deep in the Forbidden Forest. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She had known from the start that any sort of relationship with Draco was doomed, but seeing the Dark Mark on his arm had sealed the matter. It was impossible now.

"I couldn't let my mum die," he said, his voice shaking.

His body was trembling, and she was trembling with him. His arms were squeezed so tightly around her that she thought her ribs would break, yet she wished he would pull her even closer.

"Draco," she whispered, and she felt him nod in response, "I…I don't care about what you are. I don't know how much…"

Her throat tightened, and she had to take a few deep breaths before starting over.

"I don't know how much time we have left together, but I don't want to leave you, and I don't want you to leave me, not until it's absolutely impossible for us ever to see each other like this again."

Draco didn't respond.

"Draco? Please don't say this is over," she begged in a whisper, hating herself for being so weak. "I want us to go right back to where we were before I found out you… before you became a Death Eater. We can keep doing the same thing, up until the very end. Please…please don't say it's over."

"It's not over," he muttered. "I'll stay with you until I can't."

Hermione took a shaky breath and patted his shoulder. He reluctantly loosened his arms so that she could back up and look at his face. She wondered when she had become so utterly dependent on him. Just seeing his face brought her solace.

"Hermione…" said Draco, his eyes brimming with tears.

She didn't speak, just waited. She sensed that what he needed more than anything was to be heard.

"I'm… afraid. I'm afraid of failing. I don't think I can do it."

Hermione shoved her lips up against his, taking him by surprise. He started to push her away, but she fisted her hands in his hair, and when he tried to back up, he fell back onto the ground again. She straddled him and let her hands roam across his body, trying to ignite that spark inside him.

Finally his lips started moving in response to hers, and she stuck her tongue into his mouth, seeking him out. His tongue mashed against hers, and desire boiled within them as they battled for dominance. She began grinding her hips against him and felt a bulge forming beneath her as he hardened.

She couldn't do anything to help him, not when he was working for Voldemort. She couldn't jeopardize the Order by giving him any sort of help on whatever mission he'd been assigned.

So she resorted giving him to the only thing she could—herself.


	13. Harry's Suspicions

**Author's Note:** This short flashback is from Ch. 5 and takes place during the first half of their sixth year at Hogwarts. And I guess it's a little misleadingly titled, because Harry himself doesn't actually have any lines in the flashback.

**Harry's Suspicions**

"Lumos," Hermione muttered.

Draco's face was illuminated by the glow from the tip of her wand. "What's so urgent?" he hissed.

"Harry's suspicious of you all the time. I'm worried."

"I don't care what he thinks."

"Well you should! What if you get caught? I can't bear the thought—"

"Of a Death Eater getting caught?" Draco spat.

"Shh, quiet. Don't say that," said Hermione.

They were hiding in a broom cupboard in a corridor. It was dinnertime, and almost everyone was at the Great Hall.

"I just… I wanted to tell you to be careful. That's all."

"I don't need you to remind me. It's not your life that's on the line."

Hermione glared at him. "Well, I'm sorry that I give a damn about what could happen to you, because you obviously don't appreciate it."

"No, I don't. I've got enough on my hands as it is, without having to worry about you, and how you're always… fretting about my safety. I know what I'm doing, so please just treat me like nothing's different. I bloody well know that Potter's after me, I don't need you to tell me."

Hermione's hand lifted on its own, and before she knew it, she had slapped him.

"So this is what I get for caring. Fuck you, Draco."

Hermione stormed out of the cupboard, and he didn't follow. She went straight to the Great Hall and sat down next to Ginny.

"What's your problem?" said Ginny, raising her eyebrows at Hermione's angry expression.

"Ugh, ran into Malfoy outside. I can't stand that good-for-nothing ferret."

Ginny sighed and jerked her head toward the couple across the table. Hermione looked up and saw Ron and Lavender tangled in each other's arms, and she quickly looked back at Ginny, repulsed.

"They're getting to be almost as insufferable as Malfoy," Ginny muttered under her breath.

Hermione couldn't help but snicker at her comment. She glanced over her shoulder inconspicuously and noticed Draco entering the hall. Their gazes met for a moment as he strolled toward the Slytherin table, and she thought she saw an apology in those molten silver eyes. Then he looked away, and she turned back to her food.


	14. The Necklace

**Author's Note:** This flashback, another short one, is from Ch. 13 and takes place a little before Christmas holiday in their sixth year at Hogwarts.

**The Necklace**

"I've got something for you."

Draco frowned. "I thought we agreed never to give each other things. It's too risky—proof of something that's not supposed to exist. Remember?"

"At least look at it."

"No. You're not—"

"Please, Draco?" She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. "Please?"

"Oh, all right," he grumbled.

She smiled.

"You're not pulling that ever again, you got that?" he said sternly.

Hermione laughed. "That's what you said last time."

"I… I did, didn't I?" he said. Then he shook his head. "Oh, shut up. Don't you have something to show me?"

"Yes, I do."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin silver chain. Hanging on it was a small gold charm in the shape of a lion. She held it up to show him.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said. "Honestly, don't you think that'd be a bit too obvious?"

She laughed again. "How thick do you think I am?"

"Not very. That's why I think you're joking."

"Here, hold it."

"I'm not keeping it."

"Just wait, Draco. A little patience, please?"

"Fine," he said, taking the charm from her.

Hermione backed up a step.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Just wait," she repeated.

She backed up a few more steps, and then stopped as she saw the charm transforming in his hand. He jumped in surprise, looking down at the changing color and shape. When the charm was motionless again, it had turned into a silver snake.

Hermione started walking back over to Draco, and the charm transformed back into a gold lion.

"Do you like it?" she asked. "It's the only one of its kind."

"Where… where did you find it?"

"It was actually quite easy to find. It was the _spell_ that was tricky."

Draco looked up at her, a small smile on his face. She would never, ever get tired of looking at him.

"Aw, I should have known you could do a spell like this," he said.

"I spent a long time looking for it and then some more time practicing. So don't you _dare_ say that you don't want it."

"I _do_ want it. You couldn't take it back from me if you wanted to," said Draco, smiling.

He put the chain around his neck, and Hermione reached up to finger the small lion charm. Then she tucked it under his shirt—it'd be safer to keep it out of sight, even if it was a snake, just in case they came into contact with other people around.

"Now you'll always know if I'm close by," she whispered.

"I don't think I need a silly necklace to know when you're close to me," he replied.

He pulled her into an embrace and their lips met.

"But I'll wear it, for you."

She smiled. "You'd better."

He smirked. "You'll never see me without it."


	15. Christmas Holidays

**Author's Note:** As is obvious from the title, this flashback takes place during Christmas holidays. It's in their sixth year, and is used in Ch. 22 of _Vengeance_. This might just be my favorite of all the flashbacks, and that's why I used it last. Best for last, of course! ;) There are one or two other flashbacks that come close though, and I really can't decide.

**Christmas Holidays**

Draco lazily traced patterns on her arm, his long fingers barely touching her. She inhaled deeply, her eyes still closed.

"Are you awake?"

Hermione smiled. "I am now."

His arms wrapped around her tightly from behind, and she shivered. He pulled the covers more snugly over her shoulder.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?"

She started to turn in his arms, but he restrained her. "You can ask me anything," she replied.

"Why do you think it's okay to kill Death Eaters and not other people?"

Hermione opened her eyes and blinked a few times before responding, "Are you joking, or are you honestly asking me that question?" When Draco didn't speak, Hermione shook her head. "My God, I can't believe you just asked me that. Well, Death Eaters are murderers. They delight in watching others suffer, watching people writhe in pain. Isn't that reason enough?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, and Hermione tried again to turn around. His arms tightened around her, and she saw the Dark Mark on his forearm. Her eyes began to sting as she realized what he was talking about. How could she have been thick enough to miss his point?

"Draco, you're not like them. You didn't want this."

"I had a choice."

"Yes, but—"

"Hermione, stop. Don't make excuses for me."

They fell silent.

"I should go," said Draco, pulling his arm out from beneath her.

"No, don't."

Draco got out of bed and pulled on his boxers and pants. When he reached over the bed to pick up his shirt, Hermione sat up and reached out, grabbing his hand.

"Please stay."

Draco's eyes, now filled with longing, were focused on her breasts, and Hermione realized that she was still naked. Draco tore his eyes away from her, pulled his hand out of her grip, and started putting his shirt on.

"I can't," he said.

Hermione got off the bed and took his shirt out of his hands. He sighed and started putting his belt on instead. Hermione dropped the shirt back on her bed and reached her arms up around his neck. He moaned as her breasts pressed up against his bare chest.

She went up on tiptoe to press her lips to his and then drew back to whisper, "Stay with me."

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he breathed, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on hers. "You're going to be the death of me."

Hermione looked at him seriously. "You don't mean that."

His eyes opened and took in her serious expression. A smirk played across his perfect lips as he teased, "Do you really think I'd die for someone like you? Filthy little Mudblood."

She laughed. Only Draco could make those three words sound so affectionate. Then his lips were covering hers. She gasped in surprise as his arms tightened around her, pressing her up against him. She could already feel his arousal up against her stomach, and she parted her lips, allowing him entrance.

He turned them around and pressed her down onto the bed, lips never leaving hers. As their tongues battled for dominance, Hermione slipped his belt back off. Draco left a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone, and she smiled.

"I guess this means you're staying?"

"Shut up, woman," he grumbled, kissing the top of her breast and moving lower.

"Make me."

Right after she said the words, his mouth latched onto one of her nipples, and she moaned with pleasure, arching up against him. After suckling her left breast, he moved on to the other. No matter how many times he did this to her, she still felt the same rush, the same need building up, still let out the same irrepressible moans of pleasure.

Then his mouth and tongue were on the move again. His tongue swirled once around her bellybutton, and she giggled.

"That tickles!"

He moved down farther, parted her legs, and bit the inside of her thigh. As she gasped, he said, "I thought I told you to shut up."

Before she could get in a comeback, he had touched the tip of his tongue to her clit, and she moaned in response. She gasped as he covered the small bunch of nerves with his mouth and began to suck on it. She fisted her hands in his hair and pressed his face harder into her.

Then he crawled back up to kiss her mouth, and she couldn't suppress the aching disappointment she felt between her legs.

"You're terrible," she groaned as he trailed his tongue along her jaw and took her earlobe into his mouth. He chuckled in response and traced the outline of her ear with his tongue, making her shiver. She had managed to push his pants down and was now removing his briefs.

Before she knew it, he was inside her, filling her completely. Her mind seemed incapable of coherent thought, and she drew in a deep breath, arching her back to draw him farther inside her.

Friction… friction. She needed friction.

"Draco, please—"

That was enough motivation for him, because he started pulling out and shoving back in, his thrusts picking up the pace as they both moved closer and closer to their climaxes. Finally, Hermione threw her head back and cried out his name, and he followed her over the edge, releasing his seed into her with a few last frenzied thrusts before collapsing on top of her.

They lay quietly for a while, waiting for their breathing to calm down. She stroked his white-blond hair fondly, wishing that he would never have to leave.

"Hermione…"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?"

Hermione bit her lip. She had asked herself that same question just the night before. Draco had slid out of her and shifted to lie next to her, and now he propped up his head with an arm and gazed at her with an unfamiliar expression. Hermione couldn't explain why no words came to mind. She must have had at least a dozen responses prepared last night, in case he asked this question.

"It's okay. You don't have to answer," he said finally. He smiled and kissed her. "I love you, and that's enough."

Then he was on his feet, getting dressed again, and Hermione realized that she couldn't let him leave without telling him how she felt.

"No," said Hermione.

Draco turned to look at her, questioning her with his eyes rather than his words.

"No, it's not enough. My answer's yes—I love you too."

They had lasted almost exactly two years without mentioning the L-word, but when she finally spoke it aloud, it felt so good, so right, that she knew there would be no one else for her.

Hermione stood up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. "I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all my heart."

A sincere smile graced his lips as he leaned down to kiss her again. "See you at the Great Hall in say, twenty minutes?"

Hermione smiled. "I love Christmas holidays." She looked around at the empty four-poster beds in her room. "What are we going to do when everyone gets back?"

"What we always do."

"Harry's going to catch me stealing his Invisibility Cloak one of these days."

Draco smirked. "Well, we've gotten around perfectly fine without it in the past."

He had shrugged on his oxford shirt and was now working on the buttons. Hermione waited for him to look up, and when he did, she gave him a teasing smile.

"Oh, I know that look. Don't you distract me again, witch," said Draco as he finished up the buttons.

"Fine, fine. Be careful on your way out."

Draco smirked again. "Don't worry. No one can catch me."

As he reached the door, Hermione ran over, threw her arms around him, and gave him another kiss, this one deep and forceful. Their tongues mashed together, and his hands pulled her up against him. When they broke apart, they were panting again.

"Damn you, Hermione Granger," Draco groaned.

With that, he wrenched open the door to her room and walked out. Hermione smiled to herself as she shut the door and started getting dressed. Only one thought occupied her mind.

He said he loved her.


	16. Sectumsempra

**Author's Note:** Definitely another one of my favorites. This flashback is from Ch. 6 and takes place in their sixth year at Hogwarts.

**Sectumsempra**

Hermione crept into the hospital wing and walked past a couple empty beds to the one with its curtains drawn. She pulled aside the curtains on one side, stepped inside, and drew them together again. She sat at the edge of Draco's bed and looked at his face, peaceful in slumber.

Harry had apparently stumbled upon Draco in a bathroom and confronted him about his mission. Draco had attacked Harry, who used one of the spells that he'd gotten from the Half Blood Prince's damned book. Hermione knew that he hadn't meant to hurt Draco that badly, but she was still angry with him. How could he just use a spell without knowing what it did? He could have killed Draco without even meaning to!

Since Hermione couldn't reveal her relationship with Draco, she could only tell Harry off for behaving rashly and using that spell without ever researching it. Ron had pointed out that it was "only Malfoy," and Hermione had exploded in his face.

"And just because he's a Malfoy, you think it's all right to kill him? My god, Ronald! Don't you understand? Intentionally or not, Harry would have gotten into huge trouble if Malfoy had died right then," she had said.

"Why are you defending that slimy git?" Ron had demanded.

"I'm not! It has nothing to do with _whom_ Harry attacked, it's the fact that he attacked at all!"

She pushed away the thoughts of that argument and looked back at Draco. Moonlight came in through the high windows and illuminated his face, and his hair seemed to sparkle. She softly stroked the silky, silver-blonde strands.

Draco stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily at her. "Am I dead?" he whispered.

"What?"

"It seems I'm being visited by an angel."

Hermione laughed softly. "I brought you some chocolate from Honeydukes." She pointed to a small bag on his bedside table.

"You shouldn't have come."

"I know, but… I had to apologize. I can't believe Harry actually used a spell without knowing anything about it."

Draco shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's the beginning of a war. People are bound to get hurt. And in all fairness, I did attack him first."

"I just hate seeing you lying here," she said softly.

Her eyes focused on a particularly deep gash in his cheek.

"Oh, don't worry. Madam Pomfrey tells me that it won't leave a scar, so my face is going to be just as perfect as it used to be," Draco said with a small smirk.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at him. "If you weren't already so hurt, I'd hex you for being such an arrogant git."

Draco's smirk widened. "You know you like it."

"No, I don't."

"Deny it all you want, but we both know the truth."

Hermione laughed and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Hermione…"

"Yes?" she said as she sat up straight.

"Are you worried about what's coming?"

She nodded. "A little."

"Me too."

"Draco… Katie Bell, and Rosmerta's mead… that wasn't you, was it?"

"We agreed not to talk about it. I haven't asked about what Potter's doing with Dumbledore lately, have I?"

"No, but—well, I couldn't tell you that much about it even if you did ask. I don't even know how much Harry is telling us."

"Either way, I'm not asking."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, you're right. If I find out anything from you, I'll feel obligated to tell someone."

Draco started to sit up, but she gently pressed his shoulders down.

"Don't move. You don't want to break open any scabs."

"I want to kiss you."

Hermione leaned down and brushed his lips with hers, and then sat back up. His silver eyes sparkled in the moonlight that filtered in through the window, and as his lips curved into a smile, Hermione felt that she'd never seen anyone—or anything—more beautiful.

"Yes I know, I'm gorgeous."

Hermione sighed. "Leave it to you to ruin the moment," she grumbled.

Smiling, Draco said, "You should probably go. Blaise said that he was coming to visit me soon, and I think he meant either tonight or tomorrow night."

Hermione gasped. "Why didn't you tell me before? What if he saw me?"

"Any excuse would have worked. Prefect rounds?"

"At three in the morning? He'd have to be daft to believe that."

"Merlin, is that the time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Well how'd you expect me to know the time?"

"I honestly don't know." She leaned down to kiss him again, and as she started to back up, he lifted his chin to keep their lips in contact for a moment longer. "I'll visit you again later," she said with a small smile.

"Don't get caught—even a prefect might get in trouble for being out this late."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him and immediately felt foolish, but as soon as he laughed at her, all embarrassment melted away, leaving behind a warm feeling that enveloped her from head to toe.

"Get better soon," she said.

"I will."

Hermione stood up, but her eyes stayed on his face.

"Can't leave?" Draco smirked. "My, oh my, I've gotten beautiful enough to petrify people. Wonder how long it'll take before I'll be able to kill someone with my looks."

"You're an insufferable prat, you know that?"

"Why yes, I do."

He was still smirking when she turned around and walked away from his bed.

"Good night, Hermione," she heard him say.

She turned as she opened the door leading out of the hospital wing and looked at the curtain that had fallen into place behind her.

"Good night, Draco."


	17. Saved by Draco

**Author's Note:** Yes, I am aware that this title is particularly lame. This flashback is from Ch. 14 and takes place while Harry, Ron and Hermione are traveling with the Horcrux; at this point, they haven't destroyed it yet.

**Saved by Draco**

Harry and Ron had stayed behind at the tent, as usual. Hermione had left the protected area to find food; they had set up near a stream that day, so she was fishing.

She had already caught two fish when she heard footsteps in the surrounding woods. She spun around rapidly, hoping it was just Ron or Harry, but she didn't see anyone.

Hermione picked up the fish and headed back toward camp but stopped short and ducked as a flash of red light blinded her momentarily. She dropped the fish and whipped out her wand as she raced in the opposite direction—she couldn't lead the attacker straight to camp.

She heard pounding footsteps crashing through the foliage on either side of her and realized that there were two attackers. Just as she began to use a Shield Charm, she crashed right into one of them, and the barrier dissipated before it was completely formed.

"Stupefy!" she cried, and the Death Eater in front of her crumpled to the ground.

"Petrificus Totalus!" she heard from behind her.

Her limbs snapped together, and she toppled to the ground, eyes wide in fear. She heard footsteps coming closer and prayed that Harry and Ron had heard her and were on their way to save her.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione winced. Then she blinked, realizing that she was still alive. There was a thud, followed by leaves crunching, then another flash of green light. She recognized the voice this time.

Draco walked into sight. "Finite Incantatem," he said.

Hermione got to her feet and threw her arms around him. "You saved my life."

Draco patted her back, chuckling. "Obviously."

"How—how did you know I was here?"

"I didn't. I was following those two. I was supposed to back them up if they ran into trouble. Unluckily for them, the trouble they ran into was you."

"But… now that you've killed them, won't you get into trouble?" Hermione backed up just a little so she could look at his face.

Draco smiled. "I've been in trouble since I fell in love with you."

Hermione looked around worriedly. Draco laughed lightly, and Hermione felt that she hadn't heard that wonderful sound in far too long.

"Don't worry—no one's here," he reassured her.

His lips brushed her forehead gently.

"Any chance I'll be seeing you home soon?" he asked in a low, intimate voice.

"Will you be free?" she asked him.

He pressed his forehead against hers and put his arms around her loosely.

"Until he summons us all, I'm free," he replied. "Technically, I should report that they're dead…" he gestured to the two bodies on the ground, "…but I don't mind a little white lie now and then."

"What do you mean?"

Draco just smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'll wait for you at our flat. It's about time you practiced Occlumency."

Hermione pouted. "That can't be the only reason why you want me to come, can it?"

She tightened her arms around him to pull him closer and gently thrust her hips against his.

Draco groaned. "Not here."

"I'll let you know when I'm coming, then," said Hermione.

She undid the first button of his shirt and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his collarbone, a sensitive spot that she'd discovered years before. He couldn't help but moan when she bit down.

"Hermione, you're killing me."

Hermione smiled impishly. "I'll see you soon."

She started to back away, but Draco captured her lips with his, and she couldn't take another step. She pressed her body against his and deepened the kiss. She hadn't realized how much she missed this.

Then he gently pried her off him.

"See you soon," he said with a smirk.

Before she knew it, he had Disapparated. Hermione cursed. She really had to make it to the flat as quickly as possible.

She walked back to the stream and spent a few minutes looking for the fish she'd caught earlier. Finally, she gave up and caught two new ones. Then she hurried back to camp.

"What took you so long?" Harry asked.

Ron just glared at her from the ground. The locket was around his neck, and he didn't handle its effects well at all.

"There weren't very many fish in the stream," Hermione said.

She set down the fish she'd caught and went about making dinner.


	18. Vanilla Latte

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 9 and takes place after Harry, Ron and Hermione have destroyed the locket.

**Vanilla Latte**

She linked arms with Draco, huddling close to his side as the wind blew, giving her the chills. They were near their flat in Muggle London, strolling down the street. The sun was about to set, and the sky was beautiful, colored with splashes of pink, purple, and blue.

That afternoon, she'd slipped some Sleeping Potion into Harry and Ron's drinks; after destroying the locket, they were still struggling to find out what was to be done next. None of them slept well at night, and she figured that a Sleeping Potion would give them some rest, and allow her some time to spend with her dear beloved.

She'd Apparated to their flat to find him on the couch, asleep. He'd gotten there a few days ago and waited patiently until she had a chance to join him.

After catching up a bit, they had agreed to go on a walk together. If they got caught, then as Draco said, the world could go to hell. He would take her away, and they would spend their lives as fugitives if it meant they would never have to part with each other again.

They sat down at a small café, and Draco picked up the menu.

"I have no idea what any of this is," he confessed.

Hermione laughed. "Just pick something."

"You're not going to give me any helpful suggestions?"

She shook her head.

"Fine, let's see." He looked through the choices. "Why couldn't we have just gone to a pub? I'm more familiar with Muggle alcohol."

Hermione smiled. "I like it better when you're uncomfortable."

Suddenly she felt his hand brush her inner thigh under the table, and she jumped.

"Feeling's mutual," he said, smirking.

Hermione swatted his hand away playfully. "Aren't you supposed to be pampering your date instead of teasing her?" she huffed.

Draco's reply was cut off when a waitress approached the table.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at Draco.

He smiled. "Vanilla latte. Small."

The waitress turned to look at a very amused Hermione.

"I'll have a hot chocolate."

The waitress turned back to Draco. "Would you like anything else?" she asked.

"No, that'll be it," he replied.

"All right, then. Well, if you need anything, just ask me."

She walked away, exaggerating the swishing motion of her hips.

"That's a pretty girl, and I think she likes you. Why don't you ask her out?" Hermione teased.

"You know, I would. But then I know there'd be this other girl that I wouldn't be able to get off my mind, and I wouldn't want to be unfaithful to that poor waitress from the very start. So it looks like I'm stuck with the one I've got."

Hermione smiled. "But she's thinking about dumping you for checking out that other girl."

"She couldn't dump me if she tried."

"Wanna bet?"

Draco leaned forward over the table, beckoning with one finger for her to lean closer too. She humored him, waiting to see what he would say. Instead of replying, he inched forward and closed the distance between them, brushing her lips with his ever so gently. He immediately backed away.

Hermione shook her head, a small smile lingering on her lips.

"Well, aren't you a tease? Come here."

She reached a hand behind his head to pull him into a longer kiss, and he didn't resist.

When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

"We're in public," Hermione whispered.

"Yes, I know."

"Should we go?"

"I want to."

"What about our drinks?"

"Damn the drinks. You'll be better than a vanilla latte, whatever the hell that is."

Hermione laughed at this and got to her feet. Draco left some Muggle money on the table, and they exited the café together. They held hands as they ran back to the flat, laughing the whole way as though they had not a care in the world. To the people they passed by in the street, they must have looked like such a happy young couple.


	19. Preparing for the Ball

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 16 and takes place sometime before Harry, Ron and Hermione go to visit Xenophilius Lovegood.

**Preparing for the Ball**

"Draco, this is a terrible idea. I won't go with it."

"Yes, you will."

"You can't make me."

Draco grinned. "Yes, I can."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. She wouldn't be swayed.

"Oh come on, Hermione. It took such a good Confundus Charm to get us the invitations. Are you really going to let all my hard work go to waste?"

"That was your stupid idea. You should have asked me first."

"Well, it would have been pointless to ask if I didn't have the invitations already."

"And why is that?"

"Because if I couldn't get the invitations, I would have asked you for nothing."

"I wouldn't have blamed you."

"All right then, I'll ask first next time. Will you go put this on now?"

He brandished a box at her, and she folded her arms across her chest.

"No."

Draco put the box down on the coffee table and threw his hands up in frustration. He ran a hair through his perfect blonde hair and heaved a sigh.

"Fine, if you _really_ don't want to go…"

Hermione tuned out. She had been distracted by the way his hair flopped back down into his eyes after he ran his hand through it, partially obscuring those swirling, silver eyes. Her eyes roamed over his body. He was wearing a Muggle suit—a sleek, black dinner jacket over a fresh white shirt and a deep-green silk tie, with simple black trousers. She hadn't seen him in fancy Muggle dress before, and he looked absolutely immaculate, faultless.

Draco suddenly stopped talking, and she smiled up at him.

"You haven't been listening at all, have you?" he asked.

Instead of responding, she took a step toward him, slid her hands over his shoulders and around to the back of his neck, and leaned up to tug on his lower lip with her teeth. He groaned and pulled her flush against him, attacking her lips with his.

When he stopped his assault on her lips, she could feel his erection pressing against her lower abdomen, and she felt hot all over.

"Still want to go to that party?" she asked him breathlessly.

He nipped her nose, and she giggled.

"Of course I do," he said.

Hermione sighed. "What if we get caught? Wouldn't it be much better to stay here and make the most of our time?"

"This was supposed to be something nice for you. I thought girls liked dances. And besides, you looked like you had so much fun at the Yule Ball… especially _after_ the ball."

Hermione's cheeks flushed as she remembered their first time.

"Come on, Hermione. Go get changed. We're going to be late if you don't change soon."

"Fine," she said, relenting.

"That's my girl."

Draco pressed his lips to her forehead. Then he reached down and picked up the box on the table, giving it to her. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and went into the bedroom they shared to change. She closed the door behind her and put the box on the bed. She took the lid off and lifted the dress out of the box. It was a silk floor-length dress with a halter top, colored the same deep green as Draco's tie.

Hermione smiled. Of course he would choose green.

A few minutes later, she walked back out of the bedroom fully dressed. She'd put on a pair of her old high heels. They were black, two-inch, closed-toe heels that she felt were appropriate for the occasion, which was a private ball thrown by the Muggle Prime Minister for the first birthday of his youngest son.

Draco turned when he heard the door open, and she watched as his grey eyes darkened with lust. The dress clung in all the right places, and she had to admit that he had excellent taste. She approached him slowly, aware that his eyes were focused on her body.

"You're beautiful," he said, meeting her eyes as she reached him.

She smiled. "You picked a nice dress."

"I like what you did with your hair," said Draco. "It's not that I don't love your normal bushy look, but this, it makes you look so much more elegant."

She'd swept her hair up into a bun, exposing her long neck. A few softly curled locks dangled down to rest on her shoulder.

"So, how are we getting to this ball?" Hermione asked.

"Ready?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "We're not Apparating there, are we? I'm sure it would take more than a Confundus Charm to explain how we appeared out of thin air."

"We're going to Apparate to a hotel room a few blocks away."

"And then?"

"Just trust me. I'll get us there in style."

She rolled her eyes. "All right, let's go then."

Draco gripped her arm, and they Disapparated. When they reappeared, Hermione saw a lavishly decorated room with a giant bed and rose petals all over. She shook her head.

"Draco, why—"

"This is for tonight," he said with a grin. "Come on."

"Is this a honeymoon suite?"

"Is something wrong with that?"

"No. It's just—"

"All right, then. Let's go."

Draco grabbed her hand and led her out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. They exited the hotel lobby about a minute later. A limousine was already there, waiting. The chauffeur held open the door for Hermione and Draco, and after they got into the vehicle, he skipped around to the other side to drive.

"You didn't have to do all this," said Hermione. "Honestly, I—"

"Of course I had to do this," said Draco with a small smile. "I missed our first two anniversaries because I was too stupid to realize I was in love with you, so I have to make it up to you this time."

Hermione's eyes began to well up, and Draco suddenly looked distressed.

"What—what's wrong?"

"No, it's just… I'm just being a silly, sentimental teenage girl," Hermione replied, wiping away a few tears.

Draco chuckled. "I must be doing something right, if I've moved you to tears."

Hermione punched his shoulder playfully, and they shared a laugh. She linked arms with him and rested her head on his shoulder, sighing happily.

"You've done everything right, Draco. Everything."


	20. The Muggle Minister's Ball

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 17 and takes place soon after the previous flashback.

**The Muggle Minister's Ball**

Hermione laughed as she spun to a quickstep. Draco tugged her back into his arms, and the music gradually transitioned to a slow waltz. She looked up into his eyes and smiled.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she asked.

"Most Pureblood families have their kids trained in skills for high society when they're really young. I'm not an exception. How about you?"

"I took a class one summer at home," said Hermione, blushing.

"You're not bad."

"What are you talking about? I'll have you know that my instructor called my dancing superb."

Draco laughed. "Maybe your dance instructor was just trying to hit on you."

Hermione pouted. "I resent your implication that I'm a bad dancer."

"Well hey, you always said that you'd hex me if I lied to you," said Draco, smirking.

"I don't want to dance with you anymore, you git."

He laughed again, but she sensed that this wasn't a sincere laugh. She frowned, but he turned and dragged her off the dance floor before she could say anything. They skirted around other couples.

"What are you doing?" she asked him when they were near the side of the room.

"We should probably go," he replied.

She noticed that he was looking across the room anxiously. She turned her head in an attempt to see what he was looking at and caught a glimpse of Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater. She gasped—hadn't she wiped his memory back at Tottenham Court Road? What was he doing here?

Draco led her out of the room, but not before she saw him recognize her and head in her direction.

They were in a small, empty entrance hall. Draco turned to the side and pulled open what looked like just a normal section of the wall. He gave her a light push.

"Get in there."

"But—"

"Don't argue with me."

"Draco, I won't—"

"We don't have _time_ for this!" he hissed agitatedly, shoving her into the small room, which she quickly discovered was a compartment for holding coats.

There was a tiny peephole that was probably disguised among the artful swirls of paint on the outside wall, and she peered out to see Draco draw his wand, pointing it at the part of the wall where she was hidden. She gasped—he was probably sealing her inside!

Her first thought was that he might have betrayed her at last, luring her here and then contacting Dolohov. But she immediately dismissed that idea—he could have simply killed her himself at any time. Why bother with such an elaborate set-up?

Then he was going to duel Dolohov for her. What if he died? Her heart leaped into her throat, and she prayed fervently that he would pretend nothing was wrong and that he'd chased "Mudblood Granger" out into the entrance hall and watched her Disapparate.

"Please, please, _please_ don't take on Antonin Dolohov alone…" she whispered.

Then the door leading to the ballroom opened, and Dolohov walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Malfoy," he said, mildly surprised. "Where's the Mudblood?"

"I didn't see her. Is Rowle here?"

Dolohov eyed Draco suspiciously. "Yes, in disguise. He's still sore about the last time. I wouldn't wander around near him when the Dark Lord isn't around to protect you."

Protect? Voldemort _protected_ Draco? That sounded unlikely.

Draco smirked. "I'm not afraid of the likes of him. Where is he?"

"Just outside. Now tell me, boy, _where_ is the Mudblood?"

"You're going to want to show me some more respect, Dolohov."

"Are you really so sure that the Dark Lord would choose you, some scrawny little brat, over a man who has served him since the beginning?"

"My father may have lost the Dark Lord's good opinion, but I have not. And you would do well to remember who last tortured whom between the two of us."

Dolohov shot Draco a particularly nasty glare, and Hermione bit her lip, worried for Draco's life. Was this what he dealt with on a daily basis? He looked as though he was completely at ease, but upon closer inspection, his grip on his wand was so tight that his knuckles had turned white.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll summon Rowle and explain to me why the two of you are here," said Draco.

Hermione's brow creased. Was he really above Dolohov in the Death Eaters' pecking order?

Dolohov never stopped glaring at Draco as he turned around to face the door. He pulled open the door and made some sort of hand motion. Then he shut the door and turned back around to face Draco.

"He'll be here in a minute."

"Perfect."

Draco smiled, but Hermione noticed that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he raised his wand, and she frowned. What did he think he was going to do? She glanced at Dolohov to see that behind all the fury, he seemed almost uneasy.

"Malfoy, you do know that if—"

"I know perfectly well what the consequences will be."

What were they talking about?

Then a jet of green light erupted from the end of Draco's wand, and Dolohov crumpled to the ground, eyes still wide open in shock. Hermione's jaw dropped. He had just killed one of Voldemort's faithful followers. It was one thing when he killed two insignificant cronies, but Dolohov? Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she almost thought he would be able to hear it through the closet.

The ballroom door opened again, and a woman walked in. She reached for a hidden pocket in her dress, but Draco was too quick for her. With one wave of his wand, the woman fell onto the ground, shrieking in pain.

Why weren't any Muggles rushing in from the ballroom? Had one of them cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door? She bit her lip. This woman had to be Rowle in disguise.

Draco walked over to the woman and lifted his wand. She was panting on the ground, relieved that the pain had stopped. He reached down into her pocket and pulled out a wand. He tossed it across the room and pointed his wand at the woman again.

"Please—please don't, Malfoy."

Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Please, I beg of you. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Hermione frowned. When had Rowle become such a complete wimp? Or perhaps he'd always been a coward—she'd never known much about him anyway. She'd always just assumed that he was fearless because he was a proficient duelist and one of the more trusted Death Eaters.

"All right, then. Tell me why you were sent here."

"There were whispers."

"Whispers of what?"

"They were about—about the girl who's always with Harry Potter. Granger. The Mudblood."

"What did they say?"

The woman looked fearful—Draco's wand was still pointed right at her—but she continued to speak, "I promise I don't believe the rumors. I came just to prove to the others that they weren't—"

"Just tell me what they were," said Draco.

The Polyjuice Potion had begun to fade, and she recognized the face that was left behind. That was definitely Thorfinn Rowle.

"Someone said that that Mudblood was… was with you, M-M-Malfoy."

Draco smiled, and Rowle looked more terrified than before.

"Does the Dark Lord know of this rumor?"

"No, of course not. We would never make this type of accusation without verifying it first," said Rowle.

"Who did you hear it from?"

"G-Goyle."

Draco nodded. "I'll have to speak to him, then."

There was an uneasy pause during which Rowle looked longingly at his wand, lying so far from him.

"Did anyone else come with the two of you?" Draco asked.

Rowle shook his head.

"Perfect."

Rowle's eyes widened, but before he had time to protest, another jet of green light had shot from the tip of Draco's wand, and he too fell to the ground, dead.

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. She was appalled that he would kill both of them for her sake. Was he really as favored with Voldemort as he said he was? How would he ever justify killing two of the most faithful Death Eaters?

Then the door to the closet compartment was pulled open, and Draco held out his hand.

"Come on out," he said with a small forced smile.

"You don't have to smile," said Hermione. "I saw what you did. It's nothing to smile about."

He looked down. "I didn't want you to have to see that…"

"Draco—"

"We should go."

"What about them?" asked Hermione, gesturing to the two bodies on the ground.

Rowle looked almost laughable, clad in an elegant Muggle dress, but the empty, glazed look in his eyes wiped all the humor out of the image. Dolohov lay spread-eagled on the ground, that last expression of surprise still etched on his face.

Draco shook his head. "It'll be fine. The Muggles will take them off somewhere and try to figure out how they died. I'll take care of it."

"But—"

"No buts. We have to go."

Draco gripped her elbow tightly, and they Disapparated. They appeared back in their flat a few minutes later, and he sat her down on the couch.

"Draco, please explain."

"Look, we agreed never to exchange information or to betray each other. I won't betray you, and I believe that you won't betray me. Don't ask."

"This is clearly an exception. How can you expect me to hear and see all that and not ask you anything?"

"Hermione, please don't ask."

"Why did Dolohov say Voldemort would protect you?"

Draco shook his head again, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Why was he so obedient to you? Aren't he and Rowle really important figures?"

"Stop it."

"Answer me!"

"I don't ask you about the Horcruxes, or what you and Potter and Weasley are planning to do. I don't ask you anything, Hermione. Don't—"

"You know I won't tell anyone, Draco. You can trust me."

"You wouldn't tell anyone of your own will, but can you really guarantee that you won't say anything under Veritaserum? Just stop asking."

Hermione glared at him. "We said that we would be honest to each other."

"And I _am_ being honest to you! When have I ever lied to you? Give me one example, and I'll tell you everything."

He had her there. She couldn't come up with a single instance.

"Well, if you were lying and I never found out, then obviously I wouldn't know," she said.

"You can say that about any honest person."

She groaned in frustration. "Draco, I don't understand—"

"It's to protect me, to protect you. To protect _us_. The less we know about each other's goals, the better. We agreed that if anyone ever even suspected us, we would end it. But I'm not about to give you up, not after all this time. I already know Goyle Sr. was the one who told Rowle and Dolohov. I'll follow the trail backwards to the source."

"But what will happen when Voldemort finds out about the people that you killed?"

"He doesn't have to know that I killed them," said Draco. "Look, Hermione, I'll take care of everything. I promise, it won't be a problem. But we probably shouldn't see each other for a little while. The jade will light up three times when I've cleaned everything up."

Hermione stood up and put her arms around his neck. "I'm worried for you. I don't know what I'll do if you—"

"Nothing will happen to me. I'll be careful—I'll make sure I stay alive, just for you."

"So… I guess this is the last time we'll be together for a while," said Hermione in a small voice.

Draco nodded and pressed his lips to hers briefly. "We can take maybe an hour. I don't know where Goyle is right now, but Greg told me his father was coming to visit him very late tonight. I'll be able to catch him at his house."

"Let's make the most of it, then."

Draco smiled grimly. "Has the mood from the ball been killed already?"

Hermione looked into his silver eyes and smiled. "I have a man who would do anything for us to be together. I'm not in a terrible mood."

"Good."

Their lips locked, and Hermione decided to let her brain switch off, if only for an hour.


	21. Malfoy Manor

**Author's Note:** This flashback is from Ch. 3. When and where it takes place is obvious, haha.

**Malfoy Manor**

Bellatrix's eyes fell on Gryffindor's sword, and she stopped Lucius from summoning Voldemort. Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off Draco as Bellatrix gave orders for Harry and Ron to be taken down into the dungeon below. Draco was pointedly looking at anything in the room except Hermione, and she finally tore her eyes away—it would do no good for them to be caught just because she wanted to look at his face.

Then the Snatchers collapsed to the ground, Stunned by Bellatrix, and Draco was ordered to take them outside and leave them to be dealt with later.

"Where did you get this sword, Mudblood?" Bellatrix demanded.

Hermione stayed silent.

"Crucio!" cried Bellatrix.

Hermione's knees buckled, and she writhed on the floor in agony. Before she knew it, she was screaming at the top of her lungs, the pain unbearable. Then, it was over, and she curled up into fetal position.

"Tell me now. Where did you get this sword?"

Still Hermione didn't say a word, and she was rewarded with new waves of pain. She twisted around, clawing blindly at the ground, wishing for a way to escape this pain.

Bellatrix's high-pitched laughter filled her ears, and then the curse was lifted.

"Draco, dear boy, why don't you have a go?"

Hermione managed to look up. Draco was standing in the doorway. His eyes passed over her briefly, and then he walked to his aunt's side. Hermione saw Bellatrix beaming in approval as Draco pointed his wand at her. She looked into his eyes and knew, even though those eyes were stone-cold and devoid of emotion, that he didn't want to do this.

"Crucio," he said in a low voice.

Pain enveloped her again, but this wasn't nearly as bad as Bellatrix's curse had been. She was still able to think coherently about things other than the pain. She thrashed about on the ground, wondering how they would ever escape. Would they escape?

Then the spell was lifted. Hermione lay on the ground, limp, too weak even to curl up.

"Draco boy, you don't seem to have the heart for this," said Bellatrix. "Watch me."

"No!" Hermione cried out. "No, no, no, please! Please, don't."

Bellatrix looked elated. "Tell me now!" she crowed. "It will get much worse for you if you don't."

"The sword—it's a fake. We found it," said Hermione.

"A fake?"

Hermione nodded fervently. Bellatrix turned away and called for Griphook to be brought upstairs. Hermione was shocked—they had captured a goblin? Then she caught Draco's eyes watching her, and she met his gaze. Suddenly she felt warmer, and a soothing feeling washed over her. He must have used a nonverbal spell. She thanked him with her eyes, and he looked away, focusing on the ground instead.


	22. Shell Cottage

**Author's Note:** This flashback is also from Ch. 3 and is almost directly connected with the previous one, both in the text and in timing.

**Shell Cottage**

Hermione lay in one of two beds in her shared room with Luna, who had also been held captive by the Death Eaters at the Malfoy Manor.

They had reached Shell Cottage, Bill and Fleur's home, with plenty of help from Dobby the house elf. Unfortunately, as they were leaving, Dobby was struck in the chest by Bellatrix's knife, and by the time they reached safety, it was already too late for him. Harry was devastated and insisted on digging Dobby's grave on his own, without magic. Hermione and the others could only watch as he dug a small hole in the ground for the small creature that had just saved their lives.

But even as Hermione stood watching Dobby being laid to rest, her mind was filled only with thoughts of Draco. Even now, her thoughts continued to revolve around him. Voldemort had to have arrived soon after their narrow escape, and when he found out that they had gotten away, how would he punish Draco and his family? She shuddered at the thought of him being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse.

She got out of bed and left the cottage, quickly passing the boundary that had been drawn around it to keep the residents safe from intruders.

Then she Apparated to a small flat in Muggle London. This was the place where she and Draco waited in lonely hours, hoping that the other would be able to come. This was the only place in the vast, vast world that was theirs and theirs alone.

Hermione pulled out a small jade pendant. Her mother had given it to her long ago, after a vacation in China. The pendant was part of a pair of matching ornaments, and in fifth year, after casting the Protean Charm on them, Hermione had given one of them to Draco—she'd gotten the idea from the galleons she'd charmed for Dumbledore's Army.

She tapped it with her wand again; she'd done so earlier in the day, but there had been no flash in response. She prayed that everything was all right and began to pace back and forth nervously in the small living room. Then she stopped. She had to calm down, had to sort through her thoughts. The war was only just beginning—they were still searching for Horcruxes, and they wouldn't be on even footing with Voldemort until they removed every object that preserved his immortality.

She stood facing the window, looking blankly into the dark. Rain splattered the window.

A pop alerted Hermione to his arrival, and she smiled.

"Don't you think you should be a little more careful about showing your face?" she heard him say from behind her. His hands rested on her waist as she pulled the curtains shut. She felt his breath on her neck. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione turned around in his arms. "You didn't have a choice."

Draco looked impulsive. "I could've just killed my aunt."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't have appreciated that so much."

"Yeah well, I haven't cared much for what they thought ever since you woke me up."

Hermione kissed him lightly. "Did Voldemort punish you for letting us get away?"

"It was just the Cruciatus Curse for me. He was more furious at my dad, and my aunt. They're to be confined to the Manor for some time, taking orders from Fenrir."

Hermione flinched at the mention of that debauched, wicked werewolf, but she didn't comment on it. "Then… what of you?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to be looking for you," said Draco with a small smile. "And Potter and Weasley, of course," he added as an afterthought.

She smiled. "Well, you found me. What're you going to do now?"

"I'm going to hold you like this until I absolutely can't stay any longer. I'm going to kiss you—" he paused to press his lips gently to hers before continuing "—and tell you that I can't live without you, and that I'm never going to leave your side."

"Promise me," whispered Hermione.

"Promise you what?"

"Promise me that you'll never leave me."

Draco smiled. "I promise, I will never, ever leave you."


	23. Apology

**Author's Note:** I think this is probably the last of my favorite flashbacks. It was used as the Prologue, and it takes place sometime before the Battle of Hogwarts.

**Apology**

She walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a small towel and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, putting his tie back on. He looked up and saw her, and his eyes darkened with lust.

"You know, you still owe me another apology," he said.

"You just forgave me. What do you want now?"

"It's not the same thing. You never apologized for third year."

"Are you bloody serious?" she said, rolling her eyes. "It was a punch, that was all."

He smirked. "I could care less about being punched. It was what you called me that I wanted you to apologize for. It hurt my feelings, love."

She smiled playfully.

"Well then, let me fix that."

She walked over to the bed and stood facing him.

"I can apologize for hitting you, but I won't apologize for what I called you."

"Why not?"

"Because you…" She smirked in a manner that was not unlike her love's famous smirk as she pushed him back a little on the bed and straddled his legs "…really are, a foul…"

She pressed her lips to his forehead.

"…loathsome…"

Her lips touched his left cheek.

"…evil…"

Her lips grazed his right cheek.

"…little…"

Her lips caressed the tip of his nose.

"…cockroach…"

She placed the lightest kiss on his lips.

"…and I love you even more for it."

Draco smiled and pulled her down for a long kiss, and she lost herself in the whirlwind of sensations that he created in her as he ran his hands up and down her body, lingering in all the right places.

Then he broke the kiss, and she smiled reluctantly. He lifted her up off him and let her steady herself on the ground before releasing her.

"I really have to go," he said quietly.

"Yes, I know. I should go too," she said. "Harry and Ron could wake up any minute, and if I'm not there when they do…"

Draco nodded, and Hermione turned to get dressed. Then his arms wrapped around her from behind, squeezing tightly.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

"It's coming. I know it's coming."

"What's coming?" Hermione asked, even though she already knew what it was.

"The end. The last battle. It's coming. Are you three any closer to finishing off the rest of…them?"

"Draco, we promised not to talk about our places in the war. I know you mean well, but…" her voice trailed off.

He nodded. "I'm sorry. I should let you get dressed."

He kissed her neck, and then his warmth receded from her body. She shivered and wished that those arms would wrap around her again. She got dressed quickly and turned around to see him holding his wand up, prepared to Apparate. He raised a hand to wave goodbye to her.

Hermione smiled grimly and walked over to him to kiss him one more time.


	24. Battle of Hogwarts

**Author's Note:** This flashback is the last, chronologically, of the flashbacks in _Vengeance_. It's from Ch. 18 and takes place probably mere minutes before the beginning of Chapter 1.

**Battle of Hogwarts**

Hermione raced down the hall and ducked behind a suit of armor, and a jet of green light glanced off the breastplate. She held back a scream and shot a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater down the hall. He collapsed, and she let out a sigh of relief. But she couldn't relax for long—the battle was still going on downstairs and out on the grounds. She crept to the window at the end of the hall to take a look outside.

Hagrid's hut was ablaze, as were many trees in the Forbidden Forest. She watched as a group of centaurs stampeded out from the cover of the trees to join the battle. It was about time she fought her way out of the castle and onto the grounds.

Just as she was about to turn away from the window, she noticed the reflection of a Death Eater sneaking up on her. She whirled around rapidly and shouted two spells in rapid succession.

"Protego!"

The hex coming at her was absorbed by the Shield Charm.

"Expelliarmus!"

But in a moment, her wand had flown out of her own hand. Disarmed by her own rebounding Disarming Charm, fantastic. She scrambled behind another suit of armor, realizing that this was a dead end. Her wand lay two yards away, out of her reach.

She contemplated making a dive for it, but her opportunity passed before she had had a chance to make up her mind—the Death Eater Summoned her wand, and it zoomed into his hand.

"Come on out, Granger," she heard him snarl.

So he knew who she was. Then again, in the year that she had spent hunting Horcruxes, Draco informed her that her face, as well as Ron's, had become as well-known to the Death Eaters as Harry's.

Maybe she could just leap out the window. She didn't want to be murdered.

But even as she considered that option, she knew that she couldn't take her own life. Even if she survived the fall, it was highly unlikely that she wouldn't be killed by a Death Eater down below. She'd rather die fighting than trying to escape.

She pulled out her beaded handbag and stuck her hand inside, rummaging for anything that might help her. But what could she do without her wand?

Then her hand closed around a small packet, and her heart leapt. Was it possible? Had she really packed something from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? She pulled out the packet and saw the dark purple writing across the top: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

Seemed like fate was looking after her. She ripped the pouch open, flung the powder out into the hallway, and was immediately engulfed in darkness.

"What the hell?" she heard.

Then there was a crash, and the Death Eater cursed. She assumed he had run into a wall. She slowly inched along the hall, praying that she wouldn't run into him.

She thought she saw light up ahead and moved faster. Maybe she would make it out of this mess, after all.

"Incarcerous!"

Hermione screamed and started bolting, but thick ropes wrapped around her entire body, and she fell to the ground, struggling against the ropes helplessly. A pair of hands roughly grabbed her arm and tugged her to her feet. Then she was yanked down the hall. They crashed into the wall twice before he found a door.

She was shoved roughly into a classroom, and she found she could see again—the powder only took effect in the hallway outside.

"You're going to pay for blinding me, you little Mudblood," the Death Eater growled, removing his mask.

She recognized his face from a book she'd read on criminal history. This was Augustus Rookwood, one of the original Death Eaters who had participated during the First Wizarding War.

"I didn't blind you," Hermione protested as she watched him slam the door.

"Then you're going to pay for being such a pain in the arse to find," he snarled, turning back to face her.

She watched as he unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper, and her breath caught in her throat. Was he really about to _rape _her? She started to scream, but he pointed his wand at her, and her voice left her. He shoved her stomach against a desk, pushed her down so that she was bent over it. Then he removed a section of the rope around her rear and legs but kept her arms restrained. Realizing that her legs were free, she tried to move them, only to find that she had lost control over her limbs.

Hermione had never been a religious person—she'd been too rational to think that a higher power really existed and had control over the entire universe. But now, as her pants and underwear were tugged down to her ankles, she began to pray to anyone or anything out there to help her. She could stand pain, could endure torture, but not _this_. She heard him stepping toward her, and she started hyperventilating.

No, no, take deep breaths. She could take it. Deep breaths. If she lived through this, she could still get him back for it. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

He spread her legs wide apart to either side and whistled.

"For a Mudblood, you have one pretty pussy."

She shuddered in utter revulsion as she felt his rough fingers rubbing her bottom. He slapped her arse hard. She would have cried out in pain, but he'd already silenced her. His fingers roamed closer to her warmth, and she tried in vain to lift herself off the table.

He reached one hand up to slam her back down against the table, knocking the wind out of her. Her eyes itched, threatening to fill with tears. When his hand left her back, she found that she couldn't move a muscle in her upper body. His hands pried her legs even farther apart, and then she could feel his breath on her nether lips.

"I'm gonna make you beg to be fucked," he said. "I'm going to make you like it."

No. Silenced or not, she would _never_, no matter what he did to her.

At that moment, the door was thrown open with a force hard enough for it to swing around and slam into the wall beside it. Rookwood released her, probably to turn around and attack the intruder. There was a loud thud, followed by a sickening crunch.

The ropes around her upper body disappeared, and she regained use of her limbs.

Trembling, she pushed her torso up off the table and stood on shaking legs, reaching down to pull her underwear and pants back up. She turned around apprehensively and almost screamed when she saw another Death Eater mask. But then she saw a familiar shade of grey, and she knew she was safe.

His eyes, ablaze with fury, were focused on Rookwood's limp body—she followed his line of sight and saw that he had crushed the man's skull. His hand was clenched tightly around his wand, and he was trembling almost as severely as she was.

"Draco," she breathed.

He looked up at her, and his eyes softened considerably. He crossed the distance between them in two steps and pulled her into his arms. Leaning into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, Hermione finally allowed herself to relax. Tears leaked from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, and she let all worries about the battle fade away.

"It's okay now," Draco murmured into her hair. "He won't be able to touch you anymore."

She clung to his shoulders, feeling as though she couldn't even support her own weight anymore. She wished that they wouldn't have to go down to the field and fight.

"Are all the Horcruxes gone yet?" Draco asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. There might be one more—Voldemort's snake has to die."

"Nagini?"

"Yes."

Draco gently pried her away from him. "I'll keep that in mind when I get outside. Now look—the weasel's going crazy looking for you. You have to get out there."

"I… I know I do."

"Look at me. Look at me, Hermione."

She lifted her head up to meet his eyes and saw that they were glistening with unshed tears.

"Forget about Rookwood. He won't ever come near you again," he said firmly. "Both of us have to get back out there. If anyone comes across us here, together, I'm going to have to attack you."

He put her wand in her hand.

"Draco, I—"

"I'm being serious. Go, now."

He stepped to the side and gave her a light push toward the door. She turned back to get another look at him, but she could only see his grey eyes behind the mask.

"I love you," she whispered before rushing into the darkness outside.


End file.
